The Fawning
by Child of Loki
Summary: John returns to Atlantis after an incident offworld exposes him to an alien disease. And the only thing more disturbing and bizarre than its effects is its origin. For Clarity: This is a JohnElizabeth fic.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate Atlantis or its characters…**

**Author's note: I've finally broken down and begun to post this. For some odd reason I feel the need to apologize in advance. I've had this idea in my head for a long time, but maybe I felt it was too stupid to write or something. We'll say it takes place mid-season two, because that's where I was when I finally started writing it (and where I still am stuck, much to my dismay). These are shorter chapters/posts than I've been writing lately, but I've tried to cut down on my long-winded tendencies (without much success, b/c later ones are already proving to be longer). **

"Incoming wormhole. We're receiving an IDC. It's Colonel Sheppard."

"Lower the shield."

Elizabeth made her way down the stairs to the gateroom. They were ahead of schedule, and that was never a good sign. But there had been no communiqué. If they were under fire, Sheppard surely would have signaled so. She watched pensively as the members of his team emerged from the event horizon, wondering what could have possible gone wrong…_this time_.

She caught the sigh she was about to release upon seeing his form rematerialize out of the 'gate behind the others. It had been more and more difficult lately to check herself in her display of emotions, specifically when one Colonel John Sheppard was concerned. Then again, when wasn't he or his team concerned when there was trouble, particularly of the life-altering or ending variety? Nonetheless she yet again found herself curbing her visible relief upon finding him, _them_, unharmed.

"What happened?!" she questioned after the 'gate shut down and the team took up a stance before her. "I thought that the Telurians were friendly and you were going to stay, try to open up negotiations?"

Teyla seemed as if she wanted to explain to Dr. Weir, but instead looked to the colonel. Ronon and McKay also looked at Sheppard, then catching one another's gaze began to laugh. Elizabeth was not amused by the apparently 'inside' joke.

"What's going on?" she asked more reservedly, the panic now subsided within her. If they could laugh about it then it really couldn't be too serious.

"We were invited to dinner," Sheppard began to explain. "Everything was going fine, then they got upset at us for no good reason."

Elizabeth could tell he wasn't revealing the whole story from his body language. The looks the others gave her practically cried out their support for the conclusion. Teyla still seemed hesitant. Elizabeth stared them down for a few seconds more, then realized that John was embarrassed. It was subtle. He wasn't blushing or anything, but it was there, in the way he refused to hold her gaze for more than a second at a time.

"He pulled a Kirk," Rodney supplied, finally fed up with tip-toeing around the issue. Unfortunately, Elizabeth was just as fed up, and for someone who didn't speak 'trekkie' the statement failed to clarify anything.

"Someone tell me what is going on right now," she said more sternly. Teyla took this as her cue to finally speak up.

"As the colonel said," she supplied. "We had been invited to attend a feast, and as we were doing so, a young woman named Shyal approached Colonel Sheppard and…" she seemed to struggle for the right word to use.

"She jumped him," Ronon provided, finding the entire situation rather amusing.

"Excuse me?" Elizabeth said, unsure of the meaning of the large Satedan's statement. It surely didn't mean what she thought it did, _did it?_

"She…" Teyla drawled, realizing that however she put it would be better than Ronon's account of the events. "_kissed_ the colonel."

"Oh," Elizabeth said slightly perplexed. "What's so bad about that?"

"It was more than a _friendly_ kiss," Teyla supplied.

"You got that right," Ronon butted in again, still finding it all quite amusing. "It was an invitation to-"

"Ronon!" Teyla snapped, turning to glare at the significantly taller warrior. John seized the opportunity to defend himself, for the others weren't doing all that great of a job.

"She wanted me to…uh…_you know_…_sleep with her_," he conceded still avoiding direct eye contact with Elizabeth. "I gently turned her down and that's when the others freaked out. They said I had to…uh…" He made some sort of hand gesture awkwardly that really explained nothing, but Elizabeth got the idea. "I asked them why and they said 'it was the way when "The Fawning" was upon one' and that the girl-"

"Shyal," Teyla supplied, only slightly irritated that he did not recall the young woman's name. She had gotten used to his tendency not to bother remembering the people's names correctly.

"Right, _Shyal_ had chosen me to aide her with her 'sickness' and when I still refused they got a little pissed off," He finished the explanation.

"Alright," Elizabeth said, trying to sort out what she had just heard. "Let's debrief in say…twenty minutes?"

They all nodded their heads and turned to leave the gateroom and shed their gear, all except for Teyla, who hesitated.

"That is not all," she caught Elizabeth's attention, as well as the attention of the others who had already eagerly begun to depart. They gave her cautionary glares. She returned them with a stern one. "Dr. Weir needs to know."

Elizabeth gave the other woman a questioning look.

"They told us that 'The Sickness' would compel Colonel Sheppard to return and finish what has begun."

Elizabeth really didn't like the sound of that, and now all the joking the team had been doing appeared to serve a more significant purpose. They had been attempting to lighten the mood. Something serious had happened, and they were rightly uneasy from the foreboding statement Teyla had just relayed to her.

"Maybe you had better see Dr. Beckett, Colonel," she suggested in the manner that meant it was an order. "This…_Shyal_ may have exposed you to whatever 'sickness' the Telurians have."

**TBC…**

**(if you want)**

**(Tell you what, since I'm actually ahead, if someone gives me a treat, I'll post a new section every day until I catch up to myself)**

**(Otherwise, I'll keep happily writing it and enjoying it myself and perhaps post on a weekly basis, provided that you want to read it at all)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate Atlantis or its characters…**

**Author's note: Wow! Thanks for all of the reviews! I guess I'm bound to updating every day for as long as possible… Even if you all lose interest. :-) This part is basically like the first as far as style, but more apparent is my tendency toward lengthiness and focusing on Elizabeth. Hope it still interests you…**

The briefing had basically been a reiteration of what she had already been told, only in greater detail and with a little more propriety out of respect to the colonel, who had been forced to the infirmary. Well, he hadn't literally had to been dragged or anything. But they all knew it wasn't something he'd do of his own free will. And it had made them mindful of the manner in which they officially informed Elizabeth of the occurrences offworld.

So that out of the way, she had made her way to the infirmary in the hopes that the doctor would confirm her suspicions that it was just a misunderstanding. However, despite feeling strongly that it must be the case, part of her was worried. Well, part of her was always worried, and rightly so…how could she not be in a perpetual state of preoccupation when she was the leader of an expedition to an alien, often hostile galaxy? But the part of her reserved for worrying only about a certain flyboy who had a propensity for getting himself into trouble was a little louder than normal. It made her take the distance to the infirmary a little faster than usual, or for that matter, necessary.

"What's the verdict, Carson?" she asked putting on an unconcerned, warm face while fighting the knot in her stomach.

John was sitting on one of the hospital beds and despite the reassuring look he was giving her, she could tell he was far from pleased. She brushed it aside, hoping it was because she had ordered him to undergo a superfluous medical exam.

"I'm afraid it's not too clear, yet," Beckett responded, looking slightly concerned. Elizabeth hated that look. It was the one that told her things were going to get worse before they got better. "The Telurians weren't lying though. The colonel appears to have been infected with something."

He referred her to a nearby computer screen, one that he had been studying when she came in. She had to stretch her knowledge of biology to make out the image before her. There were cells; blood cells perhaps? And there were other differently shaped figures.

"A virus?" she asked while squinting her eyes at the screen. They didn't look much like the images of viruses she had seen on previous occasions.

"Perhaps," Beckett confirmed hesitantly as she turned to look at him again. "But it's unlike any virus I've ever seen before. And at this point I cannot determine its pathology."

She gave him a semi-blank stare, indicating that he wasn't being straightforward enough.

"I have no idea how it affects the human body," he explained. "I don't even know how it replicates, let alone how to treat it. Or if I even need to. It could be as harmless as rhinovirus" John and Elizabeth gave him critical looks. "-the common cold. Then again, it could be far more serious. Ebola is a simple virus for God's sake."

"I don't like the sound of that," John stated. Bleeding to death through his pores wasn't exactly on the top of his list of favorite ways to die.

"Should he be quarantined?" Elizabeth asked, now worried about the rest of the city's population. Remembering the last time a 'disease' had run rampant through Atlantis, it was all she could do to fight giving John a glare. His defiance and disrespect of her during that situation still made her fume. Hopefully, he had learned from that situation. In fact, she was pretty sure that they both had come a long way since then in figuring out how to work together.

"I don't think that's necessary," Carson informed them, much to John's relief, which was apparent in his expression. "From what Colonel Sheppard's told me, it sounds like the virus spreads through contact of bodily fluids or mucus membranes."

"And on that note," John said hopping off the medical bed while making a faux disgusted face, which he readily dropped. "I'm going to get something to eat. I'm starved."

"Let me know of any symptoms, colonel," Beckett called at the man's back whom had made a bee-line for the nearest exit. "And try to refrain from kissing anyone!"

"I'll see what I can do, doc. But I'm not making any promises," he called back before he disappeared through the infirmary doors.

Beckett rolled his eyes and Elizabeth forced her face into remaining its stoic 'I am not amused' demeanor to cover the fact that she was actually quite amused, and relieved to see that John was okay. But still, that worry deep down refused to quiet itself.

"I'd like to get samples from the Telurians," Dr. Beckett requested, a bit more serious now that his patient was gone. "They also might have some insight as to the nature of the pathogen. If it's become part of their culture, then it's likely something they've been dealing with for some time."

"Are you asking for permission to go through the 'gate, doctor?" She asked, raising an eyebrow at him, knowing how much he despised traveling through the stargate.

"No…I mean…anyone else on the medical staff is perfectly capable of collecting the samples I need," he replied quickly.

"But they don't have the experience researching and treating alien viruses that you do, Dr. Beckett," she pointed out, perhaps getting a little too much amusement out of torturing the good doctor.

"That may be true, but-"

"Don't worry about it, Carson," she cut off his panicked reply. "I'm not sure it would even be wise to send any one else to Teluria, given the circumstances surrounding the departure of Sheppard's team."

The doctor looked greatly relieved at first, and then seemed to change his mind over the news.

"I'm not sure I'll be able to figure out a way to treat Colonel Sheppard without taking samples from various stages of the disease," he said gravely.

"Well, then, we'll see what we can do. And thank you for volunteering for a return mission, Dr. Beckett," Elizabeth said before briskly leaving the infirmary while ignoring his cries of protest.

**A/N: John amazingly seems quite fine…hmm…**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate Atlantis or its characters…**

**Author's note: Thanks to those of you who reviewed once again. I'm glad that some of you have remained interested… I feel like maybe I should combine posts or something, because this seems short…but hopefully its quality and ability to entertain are not wholly unsatisfactory. :-)**

John was walking leisurely down the hall, headed toward the mess. He felt an intense hunger, although it wasn't identifiably coming from his stomach. Although odd, he shrugged it off. Since their participation in the Telurians' feast had ended rather abruptly, and without his consuming a single thing, he concluded that he deserved a nice big sandwich, preferably turkey.

There was someone coming up behind him, not just following him, but approaching at a quickened pace. He could hear the footsteps amongst the noise of the well-traversed hall, but only barely. The giveaway, for some bizarre reason was the smell. It was a distinct odor and had caught his attention far before the distant and determined footsteps alerted his ears. He closed his eyes and took a deep draught of the air in, filling his nose and lungs. And he didn't know why, but he immediately recognized the scent. It was feminine. It was,

"Elizabeth," he said assuredly as he stopped to wait. He heard the footsteps falter for a moment before she appeared at his side. Then he continued to walk, she accompanying him. "What can I do for you?"

'Well, I was just…" She began but seemed to become distracted mid-thought. "How'd you know it was me?"

"I could smell you," he answered her nonchalantly. "New perfume?"

"Uh…" Elizabeth found herself completely bewildered. She had gone after him because her stomach had simply refused to settle, her concern was becoming debilitating. Attempting to return to her office and do paperwork would've proven futile without talking to John and reassuring herself of his well-being. Unfortunately, he had already proven to be slightly abnormal. "I'm not wearing any perfume."

John finally turned to look at her, meeting her eyes which had been focused upon him throughout the entire conversation. He appeared slightly alarmed, then confused. But just as quickly as the shock lighted his features, it passed, covered by his normal air of cool composure. Again, he focused on the hallway in head of him as they walked.

Elizabeth, however, couldn't let his strange comment pass so easily. She stopped and grabbed his arm, causing him to pause also, and turn to face her.

"John," she said concern lining her features. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Yeah. I'm fine," he told her confidently, hoping she would believe him and let it drop. "I'm just a little hungry and-" _God, you smell good! _

He bit his lip, barely cutting himself off, alarmed at what he had almost said to her. It must've been the hunger, it was disorienting him. And she must have lied to him, because there was no way she hadn't done something to flaunt her scent more noticeably. It was surrounding him, floating off her in waves, threatening to choke him with delight. And he had to admit, it was alluring. It exhibited her femininity, with hints of her shampoo and soaps, and an iota of perspiration. Never before had he identified a scent that was simply 'woman' until he had been exposed to that first trace of Elizabeth's new smell. Previously there were perfumes that he identified with people of the female persuasion. But they all could be identified as 'lilac' or 'citrus' or some such flower or fruit of origin. But this was none of those. This was simply 'woman.' It screamed it at him, it called to him, it begged him to-

"_And_…?" Elizabeth prompted him. She had hoped to be reassured, her worry quelled by conversing with John. But instead of perishing, the knot had reclaimed its hold on her stomach, spreading out its roots and flourishing.

"_And_ I think it's starting to get to me," John saved himself, attempting to avoid the enticing scent by breathing through his mouth. However, it only added to his perplexity, as he now fancied that he could taste it, her deliciously feminine aroma settling on his tongue. He had to get out of that hallway, away from her. "So if you don't mind..." He began his journey in search of food again. "I'm going to find something to eat before I really lose my mind."

_Lose his mind?_ Elizabeth really didn't like the sound of that. But she had picked up on the hints, that he didn't exactly desire her presence. As she watched his back drift steadily away from her, she found herself hoping that it was as he had asserted; that he was simply suffering from a lack of food, not as she feared; that he was displaying the early symptoms of an alien disease.

**A/N: Looks like Elizabeth may have a reason to worry after all…**

**(I do appreciate and give significant consideration to feedback: Do you like/dislike where this is going? What did I do wrong? Any suggestions?)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate Atlantis or its characters…**

**Author's Note: As always, thanks for the feedback. So, here we go…as promised. :-)**

John tossed and turned for what he figured was the thirtieth time that night. He was finding it extraordinarily difficult to sleep. Unfortunately, blaming the hunger hadn't provided the excuse that he had hoped for. He had thought he would be okay, after he had gotten away from Elizabeth and her intoxicating aroma, and fetched something to subdue his nagging craving for sustenance. But had he ever been wrong!

While he had ravenously consumed his sandwich in the mess, he had fancied that he smelled Elizabeth again. A quick survey of the room had proven otherwise. And taking a deep meditative breath in between bites had confirmed that it wasn't quite her he had gotten a teasing olfactory-stimulating hint of in the mess. But it had been along the same lines, and the aroma had varied and intensified as different women moved in and out of, and around the room. Their overwhelmingly enticing scents had made his head buzz, his thoughts becoming muddled and disorienting.

After he had hurriedly finished consuming his sandwich, although his hunger hadn't quite felt satiated, John had hastily made his was to his room, where he had plopped down upon his bed closing his eyes and trying with as much effort as he could muster to push the ponderings of aromatic naked women from his head.

But it wasn't visions of women that kept him from slumber throughout the night. He simply felt awake. And it was all that John could do to keep himself from jumping out of bed and going for a run or seeking out some other form of strenuous exercise. He was itching to do something, anything, particularly something physical. Reading a book wasn't going to cut it. He needed to _do_ something.

No! No he didn't. What he really needed to do was sleep, try and get some rest. It was going to be impossible to convince Elizabeth to let him return to duty if he didn't get any sleep and looked like the walking dead. And, if he knew Elizabeth, and he flattered himself that he did, he would need all of his wits, charm and energy for the confrontation. And it _would be _a confrontation. _It almost always was…_

--------------------------------------------------------

Dr. Elizabeth Weir turned off her computer, finally relenting to her body's call for rest. Her eyes hurt and her eyelids felt extraordinarily heavy. She must have read a hundred reports of varying lengths and subject matters since she had thrown herself into paperwork to avoid thoughts about her military commander. And it had worked pretty well to stave off the plague of her existence, her seemingly infinite capacity for worrying. At least, it had worked for awhile, but as soon as she felt herself growing tired, unable to concentrate fully on the work, the concern had drawn her attention yet again.

She made her way back to her room to catch a few hours sleep, sighing heavily and fighting the distracting thoughts. They were thoughts that played out a thousand scenarios resultant from John Sheppard's experience on Teluria. And they were almost all of them bad, horrifying, heart-wrenching and hurtful. _What if the disease was fatal?_ They had said it would make him return…_What if he had to spend the rest of his life on Teluria?_ Both scenarios would have the same result…_What would she do without him?_

_Stop worrying, Elizabeth_, she mentally scolded herself. _Everything will be fine._

She walked several feet past her door before realizing the error and hurrying back. Her mind was exhausted. _She_ was exhausted. She hoped that it would provide her with the rest she needed, the means to quell her persistent fretful thoughts long enough to get a few hours sleep. And Elizabeth knew she needed it, knew that tomorrow would bring the typical confrontation with John. He would want her to keep him on full duty, not confined to Atlantis with time off to rest, as he should. She would have to fight him all the way; he was sure to put up a hell of fight. And all for his own good, she would have to win the battle of wills. She thanked god that Caldwell wasn't there to compound her problems.

After lying awake for an hour or so, Elizabeth made a decision. Maybe it wasn't a wise decision, but it seemed prudent considering the circumstances. There was no way she was going to get any sleep while the issue of dealing with the colonel hung over her head. So, she got out of bed, dressed and made her way expeditiously to his quarters, pushing the arguments pertaining to the rationality of the action out of her head. In all honesty, she really just wanted to get the confrontation over with, not have to anticipate and dwell upon it until it actually occurred.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

John had finally gotten to sleep and was deep in the middle of one of the most bizarre dreams he had ever had, even since arriving to the Pegasus Galaxy with all its insanities to influence his subconscious, when a distinct banging sound started him awake. After taking a moment to slow his heart rate and breathing, he realized that it was simply someone knocking at his door. He stumbled out of bed and made his way over to the door, his brain still mostly asleep, and feeling as muddled and strange as earlier.

"Elizabeth!" he said with as much surprise as his foggy mind could allow upon discovering that she was the one who had been calling at such an ungodly hour. But, really, who else (besides those on a night shift) would still be awake?

"John," she pressed on despite the fact that he was only in his boxers and looking somewhat ill and disoriented. "I wanted to get this over with now. I know how agitated you get when you feel that you aren't being useful. But I want to make it clear to you that…"

To his credit, John tried, really tried to pay attention to what she was saying to him, but was undeniably, wholly distracted. Not only had Elizabeth returned, but her enticing scent had accompanied her, much to his dismay. And now it really messed with his already mixed-up head. He could feel her presence as much as see her and smell her. He could feel her body heat trapped in the air between them, building with that emanating from his own hot skin. He involuntarily began to lean towards her, his hand resting on the doorframe.

"…my decision to make. And that's fi…" Elizabeth trailed off, quite disturbed over the military commander's behavior. If he was at all himself, he should have been shouting at her by now, or at least protesting her decision in a manner that was evident he was barely controlling his temper. Instead, he was leaning into her, staring at her with a foreign look in his eyes. She had never seen that look in his eyes before. It wasn't anger, it wasn't playful nor was it sadness. It wasn't even the cold, horribly malignant look he had given her while under the effects of the retrovirus, slowly transforming into a wraith. And he was drenched in sweat. His body glistened with it. Its odor tickled her nose. She fought the urge to step back a few feet. "John, are you okay?"

It emerged from her lips as a whisper, and he didn't hear the inquiry through the blood pounding in his ears. He could only stare at her lips as they moved, teasing his hot blood. She repeated her concern, but he found himself fixated upon her neck, where the light from the hallway caressed her creamy skin. He wondered if she tasted as good as she smelled and impulsively pulled her to him, grabbing her by the arms, his mouth seeking out her neck. And she tasted better than he had imagined, or maybe it was the feel of her skin under his tongue that made him want more. He wanted so much more than-

John felt her hands against his chest and he let her shove him away, realizing his loss of control. He retreated back into his room a few steps, his hands held up in a passive manner and a surprised look upon his face to match Elizabeth's.

The conversation and subsequent confrontation had taken place within the doorway, mostly in the hall, for Elizabeth hadn't bothered with pleasantries, desiring only to get the thoughts off her chest and over with so that she could go to bed and finally get some sleep. She decided that even though no one was around, this had turned into something that shouldn't pass in the hallway, on display for any passersby to see. So she stepped into his room, allowing the door to slide close behind her and tapped the panel to turn on the lights, if only minimally.

She tried to pay attention to the blatantly disturbed man whom had moved to sit on the edge of the bed, placing his head in his hands. But Elizabeth found herself distracted by a cold spot on her neck, where he…his mouth had been. She absentmindedly rubbed it with her hand. It was wet..._saliva. _Didn't Carson say that the disease probably spread through saliva? And now it was on her hand. She let the contaminated appendage fall to her side, making a note to remember to wash her hands as soon as possible, preferably before she did something stupid like rub her eyes, which was a solid likelihood considering how tired she was.

Pushing the thoughts of viral exposure from her head, Elizabeth sat down next to the man who was most definitely not himself.

"John?" she questioned coaxingly.

"I'm sorry, 'Lizabeth," he mumbled from his withdrawn state. "I don't know what…I just…"

"Why don't you get dressed, and I'll accompany you to the infirmary," Elizabeth suggested.

John started at the suggestion, snapping back to reality and to himself.

"No. That's not necessary," he asserted. When she began to interrupt to voice her opinion to the contrary, John preempted her, continuing his argument. "I'm feeling better now, and besides, I have to report to Beckett in a few hours anyway. I don't think anything else is going to happen if I try to get some sleep before then."

Elizabeth still looked like she was going to protest, but decided otherwise as she studied his dimly lit face. Besides the apparent embarrassment, there were the initial signs of exhaustion and a good amount of confusion lining his features. She took pity on him. John had never asked for this. By the sounds of it, he had even been on better behavior than usual when the incident occurred, but here he was suffering the consequences of yet another bizarre Pegasus-style plot twist.

"Okay," she conceded. "But promise me that you will keep your appointment with Dr. Beckett."

John gave her an annoyed look. "It may seem like I make impulsive decisions sometimes, but I'm not a complete idiot, Elizabeth."

That seemed more like the John Sheppard she knew. She smiled as she rose to leave.

"I know, John."

**A/N: Maybe Elizabeth shouldn't be so easy on him… It must be that cute smile…or those eyes…or well, you get the idea…**

**(BONUS: Here's a thought. I didn't really elaborate upon John's dream (Didn't want to go there or had my fill of dream sequences, not sure). So, 500 Points to whoever comes up with the most interesting and/or bizarre scenario!)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate Atlantis or it characters…**

**Author's note: I'm sorry I didn't get sooner today. I was away from my computer. Anyway, this catches me up with myself, but the next section is almost ready and may be postable by tomorrow night…possibly…**

**(Thanks to _Reading now_, ****_TangledPencils_****, and ****_sorrel rowan_**** for the dream sequences. Very Entertaining. They made me laugh and then wonder just what was wrong with us all. :-) You each receive 500 pts)**

Elizabeth hadn't gotten any sleep the previous night and it was beginning to have its toll on her. It wasn't really anyone's fault, but currently she found herself blaming John Sheppard with more than a little satisfaction. The guilt soon overcame the pleasure of placing responsibility for her exhaustion on him. It most definitely hadn't been his fault. It wasn't his fault he had been exposed to an alien virus that, quite apparently to Elizabeth, had given him to odd behavior and mood swings. It wasn't his fault that she had felt that somehow the appropriate time to confront him about the situation was at three in the morning. It wasn't really his fault that she had spent the better part of an hour scrubbing unseen contaminates off from her hand and neck. And it wasn't his fault that she spent the rest of the night pondering the events that had transpired between them, worrying about his state of mind and health. So, really, there was no one to blame for her present discomfort except her own stupid, forever-fretting brain!

Concentrating on scientific chatter wasn't helping her headache, either. She desperately tried to follow Dr. Zelenka's explanation, but failed miserably. And although it may have been rude, Elizabeth decided that for her own good, she needed to try and get him to leave her office. She supposed it wasn't entirely against etiquette for her to stand, walk around her desk and force him to follow her to the door while he continued to talk. Radek had a hard time taking cues from people sometimes. Elizabeth had quickly discovered that some scientists-by no means all, but unfortunately many of her team-weren't always clear on the socially-acceptable response or action.

"Thank you, Dr. Zelenka, for that…_detailed_ explanation," Elizabeth said diplomatically, attempting to relegate her headache and dizziness to the side. "I look forward to hearing the results of the experiment."

"Oh, yes," Radek said, finally realizing her intent. "I shall be going now."

Elizabeth nodded her head in acknowledgment, but the motion only served to increase her dizziness. The room began to spin and she felt her legs weaken beneath her. Expecting the pain of plummeting to the hard floor, she was surprised when she found herself caught as her legs gave out. For someone who took over five minutes to realize that the person he was talking to wanted the conversation to end, Zelenka had remarkably quick reflexes.

"Are you okay, Dr. Weir?" the concerned Czech scientist asked the woman who had gone limp in his arms.

"Yes, I think," she answered recollecting herself, testing her legs to see if they had decided to do their job and support her weight again. "It was just a little dizzy spell…"

----------------------------------------------------------------------

John Sheppard hadn't slept well the previous night. First, he had found it impossible to get to sleep. He had simply been awake. Then, when he had finally fallen asleep, Elizabeth had shown up at his door, ready to ream him out for a request he hadn't yet made-but in fairness was undoubtedly going to make the next day. Normally, her intrusion wouldn't have bothered him all that much. Well, he would've probably gotten irritated or amused by it, and returned some of her heated words. But, it hadn't been under normal circumstances. John hadn't wanted to admit it, but the alien virus he had been exposed to by that girl (sticking her tongue down his throat) was affecting him. Elizabeth had been irresistible to his hormone-doused body, and he had momentarily lost control, and that had given him things to think about, things that had preoccupied his thoughts for the remainder of the night.

He hadn't known what had caused his impulsive behavior, until he had gone in for his check-up that morning and Doctor Beckett had explained how the virus was affecting him. Apparently, it was somehow stimulating hormone production in his body. His blood had shown higher than normal testosterone and adrenaline levels, as well as an increase in viral load. It hadn't been a good infirmary visit. John hadn't told Carson about the incident the previous night, so the doctor didn't feel there was any reason to keep him in the infirmary. Maybe he should've told the man about his loss of control. But how could he tell him about his near-assault on Elizabeth without exposing her? She hadn't sent him to the infirmary or called for help, and she could have, _should have_. If it had been somebody else that she had protected, endangering herself in the process, and John had found out about it, he would've scolded her until she felt like a teenage girl caught sneaking out of the house. But it had been _him_, and she had protected _him_. And he at least owed her the same. So he had said nothing to the doctor, other than revealing that he had been finding it difficult to concentrate.

Besides, he was feeling better. It was odd, if he thought about it, that a lack of an entire night's rest could find him feeling this awake the next day. Deep down, he knew it wasn't odd at all. He was in fact, under the influence of a completely alien disease. But he rather not admit his inability to maintain control over his own body to a simple bug. And if, as he insisted to himself, he was responsible for his own actions, then he owed Elizabeth an apology, one which he was on his way to give.

-----------------------------------------------------------

John was passing through the control room towards Elizabeth's office when he saw them there. Dr. Zelenka was holding her by the arms, and they were standing rather close together, just in front of the doorway. And it made him angry. If it had taken him any time at all to go from nonchalance to adrenaline and testosterone fed fury, he may have realized the ridiculously uncharacteristic turn of emotion for what it was. But he didn't. He was covering the remaining distance between himself and Elizabeth within a fraction of a second. And all he could think was that the scientist had no right to touch her.

Elizabeth hadn't even noticed John's approach. One second she was trying to stop the world from spinning around her and thanking Zelenka for preventing her fall, the next John was ripping the benign Czech away from her and slamming him against the wall of her office.

"Keep your hands off her!" John roared at Zelenka, although there were only a few inches between their faces.

"I-I didn…" Radek struggled to explain to the terrifyingly infuriated military man who was pinning him to the wall with more force than necessary.

"Don't you ever touch her!" he cut the scientist off with unbridled rage. A hand came to rest firmly upon the arm he was holding across the other man's chest. He turned to face its source.

"Colonel Sheppard!" Elizabeth shouted, finally gaining her senses and stepping in to resolve the situation. It was a significant contrast to John's angered outburst. It matched his voice in level and intensity, but held the authoritative and diplomatic tone characteristic to her in every tense situation. But perhaps, diplomatic wasn't going to get through to him. She decided to lose the demeanor for effectiveness. "What the _hell_ do you think you're doing?"

John released Zelenka, letting him slowly down to the floor again. He took a few steps back. Several moments passed in which all those in the room looked at each other in silent shock and a bit of fear. Finally Elizabeth took charge again.

"Are you okay?" she addressed Zelenka, stepping in between John and the scientist. The Czech awkwardly pushed his glasses back up before meeting Elizabeth's eyes.

"I believe so, Dr. Weir," he answered her.

"Why don't you go to the infirmary, just in case," she suggested. He nodded his head, but because he was still bewildered by the incident, it gave no real indication of understanding. "Alright, Radek?"

"All right," he repeated.

"John, I think you had better see Carson, as well," she said, turning to him. He looked as perplexed and stunned by his actions as Zelenka had, if not more so.

"I don't know what happened, Elizabeth…I just…It was like…," John attempted to explain, as much to himself as to her, while they followed Radek out of her office. She had never seen him so inarticulate before. Even when he was confused, _especially_ if he was confused, John would never ramble. He could always find the words, or he'd just remain silent and give someone an annoyed or bewildered look. And he never, ever, made excuses.

They didn't even make it to the control room before Elizabeth saw John waver in front of her. She managed to step forward in time to aide him, but was unable to prevent his collapse. Due to her size, she was only able to slow his weight and ease his body as it came to rest on the catwalk. The force of his plunging weight pulled her down to floor level alongside him. She shifted his body so that his head was resting in her lap while she kneeled, immediately making her aware of the convulsions coursing through him.

"He's having a seizure," she voiced aloud the revelation. "Somebody get a med team!"

Assured that her order was being followed as she witnessed Radek calling over his radio for help while standing amongst several other stunned onlookers in the control room (whom had no doubt been attracted by the previous yelling), Elizabeth focused her attention on John. She tried to remember what one was supposed to do when someone was having a seizure, but failed to recall any such instructions. All she could do was try to keep his writhing body still and watch as his eyes rolled back and he slipped away from her. Elizabeth fought the urge to cry as the world around her melted away and she was consumed by the plight of the man in her arms.

**A/N: Looks like this disease isn't as harmless as they were hoping…**

**(And FYI on last chapter: Just because Elizabeth was potentially exposed to the virus, doesn't mean she was infected. As Beckett mentioned previously, it probably has to pass through fluids. Plus, many viruses cannot live outside the human body for very long. Although, that would have been an interesting turn of events…I need Elizabeth lucid…for now…)**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate Atlantis or its characters…**

**Author's note: Sorry about the hiatus in posting…and I also feel the need to apologize for the quality of this chapter (and my limited biology knowledge-although we don't want it over-jargony, right?). :-/ But thanks again for all of the feedback. I don't think I've ever gotten so much love for a fic before :-)**

"How is he?" Elizabeth asked quietly.

She had seen John all the way to the infirmary, until his body had stopped convulsing and the medical staff had him resting in bed, unconscious and undergoing their tests. When there had been a break enough, Beckett had ordered Elizabeth to her own room to get some rest. She had tried to protest, but failed entirely. In her mind, there had been no possibility of sleep, not after what she had just witnessed. But fortunately, she had been wrong, and sleep had come. It had been a miserable, dreamless, heavy sleep, but it had benefited her exhausted mind and body all the same. And when she awoke, there was only one place she could think of going, one concern on her mind.

"He's stable for now," Dr. Beckett answered, also keeping his voice down as they stood near the bedside of the sleeping colonel. "I ran some tests." Elizabeth nodded without taking her eyes off from the presently peaceful looking man. "And I feel horrible. It's all my fault." This grabbed Elizabeth's attention, pulling it away from John and settling it on the doctor. "I should've performed a brain scan earlier. The virus is building up in his cerebral tissue, specifically around the hypothalamus and pituitary gland."

"That's what caused the seizure?" Elizabeth concluded from the information. "And his erratic behavior?"

"I believe so," he confirmed. "But I still don't understand exactly how the virus works. It seems to replicate in neural and glandular tissue, somehow stimulating the production of various hormones, which in turn seem to foster replication of the virus."

"Gather the equipment and personnel you'll need to study the virus," she said, informing the doctor of her intent to send him to Teluria. He nodded his head in acknowledgement before he left her by the colonel's side to do just what she had ordered.

Elizabeth simply stared at the sleeping man for awhile before tentatively reaching out a hand to touch his arm. Suddenly, he seemed so fragile to her. Of course, she knew he was only human…at least she had at first. In the beginning, when he got himself into potential fatal situations, she had oft been certain of his demise (several times in fact she was positive he was dead). But beyond belief, he always managed to come through in the end, and virtually unharmed, as well. So, although part of her worried deeply about him whenever he was away, part of her also believed him to be invincible. That is, until he had collapsed in her arms, rendered helpless by a microorganism, proving himself to be as breakable as any of them.

Her hand made contact with his bare forearm, and she absently, but gently, moved her thumb back and forth over the warm skin. Feeling the highly toned muscle that lay beneath, Elizabeth rethought her conclusions about John Sheppard's fragility. He most definitely wasn't as delicate as the majority of them.

John stirred at the gentle touch afforded him and blinkingly opened his eyes to find himself in the infirmary with Elizabeth at his side.

"What happened?" he asked, surprisingly refreshed. Elizabeth fought the urge to scowl at him. He had no right being so chipper and energetic, when she was depleted from stress, stress that he had caused her. Then again, it was probably just another sign that he was under the effects of the virus, adrenaline and other hormones coursing through his veins in abnormally high levels.

"You had a seizure," she supplied the answer, combating the desire to take out her frustration over the situation on its victim. He gave her a perplexed look, concentration furrowing his brow.

"I don't remember that," he answered. But would he? John had never suffered a seizure before, so how would he know whether or not he should remember the instance? Plus, if he had collapsed into convulsions, maybe his brain had been damaged, too. That must be what was going on-he was brain damaged-because his behavior as of late had been most peculiar, like it was beyond his control. He had even succumbed to violence… "Zelenka! Is he alright?"

"Radek's fine." Elizabeth reassured him while squeezing his arm tenderly. The gesture drew his attention, and she followed his gaze to the contact between them. She quickly and awkwardly removed it, moving to sit upon the edge of his bed, which in fact placed her at a farther distance from him. "He was a little shaken up and confused. But after I explained to him the…_situation_, he assured me he harbored no ill feelings toward you."

"Glad to hear it," John said, shifting to sit up straight. "I think I'll go apologize to him in person."

"Oh, no you don't," Elizabeth caught him by the arm as he attempted to spring out of the infirmary bed and make a dash for the door. "Not until Carson gives you the 'okay'."

John settled back down, realizing that the doctor was elsewhere, and judging by the face Elizabeth was giving him, she wouldn't look kindly upon his shouting for Beckett's attention. The anxious feeling he had been having earlier had resurfaced. Sitting still, waiting patiently, was the last thing he wanted to do at the moment. He sat uncomfortably, avoiding the urge to fidget while under Weir's scrutinizing glare. A few moments passed in silence. It felt like an eternity to the hyped-up colonel.

"Alien bugs really seem to like you," Elizabeth broke the silence with a subtle smile. "First it was that wraith-bug that attached itself to your neck, then it was Dr. Beckett's retrovirus, and now this kissing disease."

_Kissing disease?_ It seemed a little more serious than mono, and instead of sleeping all the time, he couldn't seem to achieve a state of rest for any subsequent hours. His brain was jumping from thought to random thought, and his body was informing him of a dozen different desires at a time. But at least, for the moment, he still felt like _he_ was in charge of _them_, and not the other way around.

"I must have sweet blood," he responded jokingly. The corner of her mouth twitched as a broader grin or perhaps even a laugh threatened to break her composure. John was pleased to see her face light up. He always was. In his opinion, she was far too serious most of the time. "And I thought we weren't going to discuss that insect-thing anymore. Why does everyone keep bringing it up so often?"

"Because we like to be reminded that you're not invincible, Colonel Sheppard," Dr. Beckett said, having arrived to stand by the side of John's bed where Elizabeth was half-sitting, half-standing. "…despite what you may think. You should take a lesson from it as well, although since you're here, I shouldn't think you'd need reminding…"

"Is he okay to leave the infirmary?" Elizabeth asked before John could put in his plea to be released.

"Aye. He's stable for now," Beckett gave the answer John was dying to hear. "And there's not much more I can do for him here."

"I understand, doctor," she responded. Again her hand caught John by the arm right as he made his move to bolt. (He made a note to pay more heed to her quick reflexes in the future.) And she did so without missing a beat of her conversation with Carson. "And that's why I'm prepared to send a team with you to Teluria as soon as possible."

Then Dr. Elizabeth Weir, leader of the Atlantis Expedition, expert negotiator and giver of stern, soul-scraping, conscience-invoking looks, turned her attention towards John. The air force colonel shrunk under the assault. He was in second grade again, being admonished by the teacher for chewing gum in class. And it was as if he had learned nothing in all the years since; he tried the same charming, innocent-façade smile. It hadn't worked all those years ago. And it wasn't working now. Elizabeth was serious about what she had to say.

"John, it may be medically sound for you to leave the infirmary," she told him, staring him down, seemingly without blinking. He found he couldn't look away. This was important. If he ever wanted to ignore her, now was not the time. "But I'm concerned. You basically attacked Radek…and then there was that incident the other night…nobody got hurt, but…If you leave, promise me you'll stay out of trouble." John opened his mouth, hoping the lecture was over, wanting the feeling that he was just a child to end. A slight tilt of her head and flash of her eyes made him close his mouth without uttering a single syllable. She wasn't done speaking. And good little boys were quiet and let others finish before interrupting. "Leave your quarters only if you must. And contact the medical staff if you feel the slightest bit…inclined to abnormal behavior." He nodded his head. "Promise me."

"I promise, Elizabeth," he said, being careful to leave any emotion besides sincerity out of his voice.

"Good," she said. Then her face changed entirely and she released John's arm. Both Sheppard and Beckett took a moment to process what had just passed before them. Neither had ever quite witnessed that side to the woman before. They had seen her become emotional, as well as authoritative, but never condescendingly stern. When what had been said over the previous few minutes finally sunk in, they both were startled by their own particular revelation in it.

"'Incident the other night?'" Carson asked.

"What's this about a return mission?" John questioned at the same time.

They looked at each other, then at Weir.

"What aren't you telling me?" they both asked, almost in unison.

"Nothing," she told the doctor, then turned to the colonel. "Dr. Beckett is going to Teluria to study the virus in the hopes of discovering a cure. And you can forget about even trying to persuade me to let you go along. There is no possibility of that."

John Sheppard was passionate about a lot of things, especially about being in the fray, and controlling his own fate, but he knew when to give up as well. This was one of those times. Judging by the stern lecture and appearance of uncompromising-headmistress Elizabeth, he was lucky to be getting away with what he was. And considering the circumstances, it was time to make his getaway before she changed her mind. The infirmary was a horribly tiresome place to be confined to… _Run AWAY!!_

"Wait a wee moment, there," Beckett interrupted John's plan to escape as fast as he possibly could get away from the medical room. The fleeing man stopped in his tracks. He had to play their game. It was either that or risk revocation of his freedom…although…_What kind of freedom is being confined to your room? _

_It's freedom from hospital smell and needles and staring at the ceiling for hours on end. That's what kind of freedom it is!! _ John turned to face the doctor.

"I've already started you on an anti-seizure medication," he informed the man who looked like a coiled spring, his muscles tensed in anticipation of resuming his hasty departure. A bottle of pills was shoved into John's clenching and unclenching hand. He noticed the tick and tried to calm his restless body. If they saw him fidgeting like a junkie awaiting his next fix, they were sure to take back his ticket out of the infirmary. And there definitely would be no hall pass. "Take one every twelve hours."

"Thanks, doc," John quickly uttered before finally finding the freedom he desired.

Again, Elizabeth found herself watching the man run away from the infirmary, and probably the truth with it. That's why she had been harsh on him…perhaps too harsh, or more likely, not harsh enough. He needed to realize the severity of the situation, admit his limitations, before someone else got hurt. Or before he himself got hurt beyond the good doctor's ability to repair.

"Will those work?" Elizabeth asked, turning back to face the doctor.

"I'm not sure how much good they'll do," Beckett answered. He sighed, a signal of his frustration and failure to treat his patient. "They're designed to prevent seizures for epileptics, not those caused by alien viruses. The best thing I can do for the colonel right now is to finish packing my gear…"

"How long do you need?" she asked.

"A couple hours at most."

Elizabeth Weir nodded her head and the doctor returned to his most pressing task. She then walked the same path the focus of all her concern and stress had just taken to flee from the infirmary. Consideration of the dilemma that was an ill John Sheppard, however, caused her departure to be a much slower one. She wanted so much for everything to be okay, for him to be his normal, trying self. The sooner that the doctor and his team were on Teluria, the sooner they'd find a cure for John. Then everything would be back to normal, everything would be okay, the problems he caused her would be entirely his responsibility again (which she could blame him for guilt-free). And she could stop worrying…to such a degree anyway …for a little while at least…_maybe?_

**A/N: Okay, so you all have a choice. I can write and post the next three parts separately and therefore, more frequently, but they'll be shorter. Or I can combine them all into one longer section that may take me a week or so to write and post (hopefully).**

**The longest part of writing this chapter was trying to find how to spell the name of the wraith-bug, which I know Beckett refers to in Instinct, but I couldn't find it and don't have that episode, so I went with just calling it a wraith-bug. Does anyone know its proper name and its spelling? Just curious…(you can have 50 pts!)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate Atlantis or its characters…**

**Author's note: First off, thanks to all for reviewing and responding to my inquiry. (50 points to everyone!) I thought that the creature was the 'Iratus' bug, but without the ability to confirm it, I just glossed over the detail. But now I know who to go to with such questions (you guys rock!). **

**Secondly, I'm sorry that it took me this long to post…I went with the longer chapter, instead of several short ones, just because my writing style is one of jumping around. Plus I've been insanely busy this week (stupid classes). I hope that it the story is still entertaining to those of you who follow it, provided that you remember what was going on :-)**

**Thirdly, I must apologize because I feel that this could've used another edit or two…**

"I'm sure you already know why I've asked you both to meet with me," Elizabeth said from where she stood behind her desk. She gestured to the pair, inviting them to sit as she took her own seat. Teyla obliged. Ronon remained standing. "Are you sure you won't sit?"

There was no response. There was never really any response. But she always tried. Elizabeth still wasn't sure yet what to make of the Satedan. He was a man of few words; Elizabeth's world was made up of words. It had made him difficult to read, difficult for them to understand one another.

"I'm sending Dr. Beckett and a small medical team to Teluria," Elizabeth revealed. Their lack of surprise over the revelation wasn't all that unexpected, given the efficiency of the Lantean Gossip Network. A lot of communication businesses would benefit greatly if they ever determined the source of its capacity for such efficiency. "Considering the terms upon which Colonel Sheppard and yourselves departed, I imagine it will need some smoothing over."

"You are planning on accompanying Dr. Beckett and his team?" Teyla concluded.

"Sheppard would not allow you to return without protection," Ronon asserted. "I will accompany you."

"Wait a minute," Elizabeth interrupted the assumptions that had begun to emerge. While logical and not out of character, they were incorrect…this time at least. "Although, I appreciate the offer, Ronon, you will not be accompanying me."

"I do not believe it wise for you to go to Teluria only with…_doctors_." The word seemed distasteful to the large warrior's tongue. Elizabeth noted that he had stepped forward, a sign of agitation. He wasn't angry yet, but he could snap soon. Perhaps, even though he was a man of few words there were other ways to read Ronon…

"I won't be going," Elizabeth said, finally attempting to put an end to the apparent confusion. Meeting the other woman's eyes, she knew that Teyla understood her meaning. "I have great confidence in your abilities as a leader and negotiator, Teyla. I think you can handle this."

The Athosian woman bowed her head in acknowledgement of the compliment and order. Ronon snorted and crossed his arms. Both women knew it was not meant as an insult, that it was a simple expression of his disdain for diplomacy in general. But the gesture still came off as rather rude.

"I would like you to go along as well, Ronon, in case there are problems," Elizabeth began. He nodded his head and acted as if the conversation were over. Elizabeth however, wasn't finished. "I expect that you will be able to maintain control of your temper." She held his gaze, knowing that he didn't like to be ordered about, especially concerning his behavior. A slight dip of his head signaled that he conceded to her frank statement. "We do not need to exacerbate the situation. That is precisely why I'd prefer to send you and Teyla with the med team instead of a sizable armed escort."

The leader of Atlantis paused to assess the pair before her. They seemed accepting of her orders, willing and eager to help their ailing friend in whatever way possible. Elizabeth hoped that John Sheppard realized how lucky he was to have friends such as these. More-so, she hoped that he would be around to appreciate them.

"When do we leave?" Teyla asked, certain that Elizabeth had finished her thoughts.

"Dr. Beckett believes he and his team will be ready within an hour," she answered the Athosian leader. Teyla nodded her head and rose to her feet.

"We will be prepared to make the journey to Teluria within the hour."

-----------------------------------------------------

Dr. Marta Consuelo was walking down the hallway, on her way back to her room from the science lab she had been confined to all day long. Unfortunately for her, it had been the same place where the self-proclaimed Genius of Atlantis, one Dr. Rodney McKay, was also working that particular afternoon. Her head was still pounding its disdain for the aggravating man, even though she had been released from the piercing sound of his grating voice.

It didn't help that she had more information to get caught up on, and Marta was currently forcing her brain to work overtime as she traversed the Lantean passageways whilst reading the glowing ancient lettering scrolling across a tablet held but an inch from the end of her thin nose. Luckily for her, she had traveled the same path dozens, hundreds of times before. If necessary, she could walk it blindfolded.

The female scientist stopped short. She hadn't remembered there being any wall or other obstruction in the middle of this specific hall, but she had sensed that there was something blocking her path, casting a shadow of significant solidity across her tablet. She looked up. Everyone knew who the leaders of Atlantis were. Even if they had only meant them once or twice, they would never forget. Thus, Marta instantly recognized the man blocking her path.

"Colonel Sheppard, I didn't realize you were there," she said apologetically. "I probably shouldn't be reading and walking at the same time in such a busy city."

It _was_ a busy city; full of excited people running about to share new information and intriguing discoveries…or fighting battles. However, the path Marta had chosen to take to her room from the science lab on a nightly basis was picked primarily based upon its tendency for serenity. She enjoyed, no, _needed_ the peaceful period to wind down.

No response came from the colonel, however, so Marta, assuming she was in the wrong, that he was simply distracted by some important thought, attempted to go around him and continue on her journey. She had barely stepped to the side before he was right there, still blocking her way. The quick movement made her jump, her heart beating so rapidly she could feel it in her throat.

"Excuse me," she said, her voice trembling, still assuming the problem was her, but beginning to feel unsettled. This time she tried to step around him in the other direction. Again he prevented her escape. She unwillingly met his eyes. They were frightening. This was not the same man she had encountered on previous occasions. John Sheppard had always gone out of his way to be polite, and rather charming to the female scientists. This was quite the opposite. This was that creepy guy who used to watch her while she sat in the café studying during her university days. This was drunk frat boy on the dark streets. This was taking the metro at midnight.

He was too close now, even for the rather small personal space defined by Latino culture. Marta took a step back. Perhaps, it wasn't the best idea, for John continued to advance on her, compelling her to continue her journey backwards, until he had her with her back to the wall and nowhere else to go. It all happened so quickly, she had no time to think to yell for help, to ask him what was wrong…

John hadn't been able to stand it any longer. Being confined to his room when he had more energy then ever before had been driving him mad. So after pacing back and forth for hours on end, mumbling to himself, clenching and unclenching his fists, he had left his room to walk the halls. And he had done so without a thought to the promise he had made Elizabeth, without considering the fact that he was under the influence of an alien disease, compelled by desires not his own.

Then he had seen her. Well, he had smelled her first, the female scientist. She smelled like mango, her shampoo? And chemicals, a science lab? And faintly of Rodney McKay? The poor girl had been trapped in a lab with his exasperating friend for who knows how long… He could fix that, he'd make her forget all about the awful day she must have had.

As soon as he had his first glimpse of her, with her golden-brown hair pulled into a messy ponytail, spilling locks about her shoulders and framing her face as her head bent down, her mind occupied by the tablet in her hands, he had lost complete control over his actions. Any conscience he had remaining was crushed beneath the burden of the virus-induced cravings. He would make her his.

In hardly any time at all, John had her pinned against the wall. He leaned in to claim her lips, but she turned her head just in time. Instead he got a taste of the olive skin of her smooth, round cheek. Her defiance only made his desire and determination grow. He would have her. He had to have her. She was his. She was his salvation. She was his world. She was the only thing in the universe. She was a goddess. She was temptation incarnate. She-

Marta had instinctively squeezed her eyes shut when she denied the colonel what he was after. She didn't want to see his reaction. If her attempt at thwarting his advance angered him, there was no telling what he'd do. His eyes had frightened her earlier, but the malice and violence likely to make an appearance was something she couldn't face. Coming to harm was an awful experience, seeing the intent of another to inflict such harm purposely upon a victim, was something entirely more traumatizing.

Her chest heaved as her breath and heart rate quickened, awaiting the retribution likely to come, but it never came. Instead she heard a loud thud, the sound of approximately 150 lbs of dead weight hitting the hard floor.

Marta chanced a glance, hesitantly opening an eye. What she saw caused both of her big brown eyes to open as widely as they were capable. She quickly knelt by the side of the collapsed man, her potential attacker of not a few moments prior. He was having a seizure!

This time, Marta was not only able to think of the appropriate action, she was capable of it as well. She turned on her radio and called for medical assistance. But what was she supposed to do until they arrived? What was causing his seizure? Was he dying? Was it the reason for his disturbing behavior?

Any fear she had felt earlier completely left her as she placed a hand on the convulsing man's cheek, attempting to steady his shuddering head, to provide some comfort to the unresponsive man.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Carson, give me some good news," Elizabeth said in an upbeat tone, but her voice belied the positive statement, revealing the tremendous stress she was feeling.

"We've made progress, but I'm afraid we're not all that close to developing a cure or even a treatment for that matter."

Carson's voice crackled over the radio in her ear. She sighed and stood up, beginning to pace her office. The blue glow of the stargate traced faint aquatic tracings on the ceiling and walls.

"What have you learned?" It was the everything question. The question she asked when she wasn't receiving the answers she wanted. It was amazingly capable of revealing relevant, even useful information when its receiver wasn't even aware of the solution. It got people thinking, and in these kinds of impossible situations, thinking was good.

"Quite a bit concerning its origin, actually. The Telurians have quite a few stories about The Fawning, which according to Teyla, have been passed down meticulously from generation to generation…"

"The point, Dr. Beckett?"

"Well, apparently, the virus is…_Wraith_ in origin."

Elizabeth stopped in her tracks midway through her third or fourth pass of the room.

"Wraith?" That didn't make sense. Viruses evolved to fill niches, they were part of nature. Sure, people on Earth had utilized viruses for weapons. But why would anyone develop a virus such as this? What purpose could it serve? Why would the Wraith infect their human herd with a sickness that was potentially fatal? "I don't understand. Why would they do such a thing?"

"According to the Telurians, many generations ago, their people had enough of being culled. They decided that living under the oppressive thumb of the Wraith was no life at all, and they'd rather let their society die out than fuel such a reign of terror in the galaxy. So they stopped having children."

"What? All of them?" Elizabeth had a hard time believing that an entire people would go along with such an idea. Even restrictions on reproduction, such as those in China had their resistance.

"I imagine not every single person on Teluria liked the idea, but if enough of them, the majority followed the decree, their population would've been reduced significantly in just a couple of generations, something that the Wraith understandably wouldn't appreciate."

"Reduction in their food supply? No doubt. But why go to such lengths…developing a virus just because of one planet?"

"As far as I can make out, they must've feared the idea would spread. But no matter the reason, the Wraith designed this disease. The Telurians tell tales of people, like Teyla's ancestors, who were taken then returned…no doubt intended carriers for the virus. Shortly after their return, The Fawnings began. It compels them to reproduce, to keep their population in high numbers."

"This is all fascinating, doctor." And Elizabeth truly thought it was. It provided considerable insight into Wraith psyche, their fear of losing their human herd, of starvation. "But how does this help us treat the colonel?"

"Understanding the intention for the virus, its pathways, helps us understand how exactly it affects the human body, and potentially how to treat it. For example, the virus doesn't always remain active. It can be induced into a state of dormancy."

"How?"

"After people…give in to its intent…" _Did he really just edit that for her sake?_ "The Fawning ends. I believe that a certain mixture of hormones, endorphins and other chemicals signal the virus into dormancy."

"And this happens through sex?" _Did he just start at her use of the word? He was a doctor. He should be able to have these conversations._

"Yes." _There, a solution._

"Why don't we just send the colonel back to that Telurian woman, Shyal?" Elizabeth really didn't like that girl. In fact, she was on her way to loathing and hatred. She was the reason for all of Elizabeth's current problems. But if she was the solution, then…

"I wouldn't advise that, Dr. Weir." _And why not?_ "I'm not sure what the proper mixture of hormones would be needed to render the virus dormant. It may be a combination of both male and female…he wouldn't be able to use protection. He could be exposed to a more virulent strain of the virus, or given the trend of populations suffering endemic STDs, they could be carriers for other unrecognizable, potentially untreatable diseases..."

"Carson, we have to do something!" Elizabeth shouted, realized her lapse in demeanor and attempted to recollect herself. "You know John's had another seizure?"

"Aye."

Elizabeth took a few more moments to compose herself, to stifle her apparent anxiety for the wellbeing of her military commander.

"How much time does he have?" she asked, although she didn't really want to know.

"From what I've learned from the Telurians, there have been those who've attempted to resist The Fawning, sequestering themselves in secluded places only to be found dead later. They say the longest people have gone is about a week."

_A Week!_ It'd been nearly that already. Was it five, six days since he had first returned from Teluria?

"Will you have a cure by that time?" There was no answer. "A treatment…anything?" _Why wasn't he answering her?_ This wasn't good. This was bad, very bad! "Carson, answer me!"

"It doesn't look good, Elizabeth." This was too much for her to handle at the moment.

"Thank you, doctor. I'll check in with you later."

She quickly turned off her radio and shouted for the wormhole to be closed. _It doesn't look good._

_It doesn't look good?!_

Elizabeth desperately fought the urge to trash her office, knowing that it would solve no real problems, but wanting so badly the release the violence would provide her. She wanted to break things, to turn her distress outward instead of inward, where it was currently directed. Instead she found herself battling to keep her own emotions placid, to keep her thoughts together. She left herself sink to the floor, where no one could see her despair.

John Sheppard wasn't going to die. There had to be another option. She only had to find it…

**A/N: So now we know why the disease exists…but…Will Elizabeth figure out a way to save John?**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate Atlantis or its characters…**

**Author's note: Umm…here it is…I'm sure you've all guessed where I was going with this, but I still had to get there and this is it. However, I'm not quite done yet…**

**I believe apologies are owed this time for length. I hope that it's not cumbersome to your enjoyment. We are now witnessing the epitome of my long-windedness. Maybe I dwell too much on thoughts and feelings? I am also concerned I have strayed too far from the proper characterization…but I really wanted to play with them!**

**Thanks again for all the feedback. I do really appreciate it!**

**And finally…**

**Warning: The following contains adult situations and subject matter. Although not explicit, it is not appropriate for all audiences.**

What could she do?

Beckett had advised against sending John back to the Telurians to be…_taken care of_. But what other option was there? Maybe there was a woman on Atlantis that he was close to, that he was intimate with. But how could Elizabeth ask anyone to infect themselves with the virus, to suffer as John was suffering, a potential and imminent death? Well, if Carson was right, the virus would be pushed into dormancy for her as well, but she'd still be a carrier with all its implications and ill-effects. And Elizabeth just couldn't do that; she couldn't make that request of anyone, even on John's behalf, especially on John's behalf. Besides, she had heard nothing to the effect of John having a girlfriend or such on Atlantis, and surely given the rumor mill, she would've heard something.

She'd have to tell him, offer him the only option there was, to return to Teluria, despite the doctor's reservations. _What was the worst-case scenario?_ He could contract a more virulent strain or some other even more debilitating disease…But if he did nothing, he would die. Maybe that wasn't giving Beckett enough credit, but she was quite certain there would be no cure or treatment developed within the next day or so. And given the rapid deterioration of John's condition, there would be no more time than that.

However, there were other outcomes to consider. Perhaps they were just limited chances, unlikely possibilities, but Elizabeth still found them emerging in her thoughts. What if John fell in love with the woman? What if he got her pregnant? Would his loyalties be divided? They couldn't afford that. As cold-hearted as it sounded, John may be willing and able to save the lives of countless people throughout several galaxies, but he could only be willing to _die_ for them. He wasn't just a man, someone Elizabeth had come to think of as a friend, he was a resource. And the moment he had a life outside of Atlantis, of them, was the moment his utility was compromised.

Part of her felt guilty and remorseful for having such thoughts, but they had to be considered. But still…_When had she become so callous, that she could weigh an issue while depriving a man, a close friend, of his humanity?_ She didn't really have to ask the question; she knew. As soon as she had stepped through the Stargate, she herself had ceased being the person she was, a whole person, a selfish person. No longer could she have her own personal life, her own personal desires and wishes. Responsibility was her life, her entire purpose, her entire being.

And she knew the same was true for John. That was why they had gotten along so well…_eventually_. They had an understanding. They were the same, their devotion to others ruling their lives. It was a rather lonely existence, for both were excepting of the burden but unwilling to force it upon others. In fact, Elizabeth had found that, sometimes, a lot of the time, John was the only person she felt she could confide in, the only one she could really rely upon. It wasn't that she didn't trust the others, they were in fact the most important people in the universe to her, but John was the only one she felt a real connection with, that she could probably take any problem to without reserve.

He had always been there for her, and now it was time for her to prove her worth to him. He had protected her, saved her life, consoled her, been her advisor. She was even grateful for those times when he had questioned her decisions (and had the decency to do so in private). When she had first asked him to accompany them, to become part of the expedition, it was because she saw something in him, but she had never foreseen how much she would come to depend on him. She needed him. And right now he needed someone to come to_ his_ rescue. And no one was stepping up, but she would. She owed him that much. She owed him more…

Dr. Elizabeth Weir took a deep breath and tried not to moan as she rose to her feet, her stiff muscles lodging their grievances. How long had she spent huddled in the secluded corner of her office, mulling over her thoughts, searching for an answer to the most complex and ethically turbulent problem she had ever faced? How long had it taken her to make her decision to come to the aide of her troubled, dying friend? Perhaps, too long for someone who claimed to really care for the man.

Taking a moment to stretch her muscles and focus her breathing, Elizabeth strengthened her resolve for her next course of action. A confrontation with John Sheppard was always a draining experience. Attempting to talk him into doing something solely in his best interest, something so selfish, was going to be extremely difficult, probably impossible. And if she succeeded, it would take all her strength to keep her emotions in check. She would be sending him into the arms of a strange woman, one that may steal her only confidant away from her forever…Or perhaps worse, she would be taking him into her own arms without the possibility of truly possessing him.

----------------------------------------------------------

The journey to his door never really registered in her brain. She took it all on autopilot, smiling and responding to those who greeted her on the way, her leadership and diplomacy skills taking over while her conscious mind was occupied somewhere very distant.

"Dr. Weir."

"Ma'am."

Elizabeth nodded her head to the two guards posted outside his door. After the last incident, there was no doubt as to their necessity. John finally had to admit his loss of control. He may be blind to his own suffering, but when others were endangered, he quickly gave in… at least in private conversation with Elizabeth. She had wanted him to remain in the infirmary, but he had convinced her it was best that he remained secluded, away from others, especially not somewhere with so many pretty nurses around.

Knocking on the door elicited no response, but she hadn't really expected one. The last time she had seen the colonel, he was visibly fighting just to maintain control over his own body. And she couldn't imagine that his condition had improved, not when he was so close to the final stages of the disease. So, she simply entered the room.

The lights were low and the room was disturbingly quiet. A quick survey of the space informed Elizabeth that its occupant was lying on the small bed, huddled in a fetal position, facing away from her. Seeing the man in such a vulnerable, pathetic state, made Elizabeth swallow in an attempt to remove the lump from her throat.

"John?" she queried in a low voice. The quivering form failed to respond. He had surely heard her, despite how quietly she had spoken his name, for the room was deathly silent. Still, there was nothing else she could do but try again to rouse his attention. "John?"

This time, the figure started violently from its reveries and she soon found herself standing face to face with the current focus of all her problems, all her worry and concern. He closed his eyes and winced as his body wavered back and forth. When he opened them again, he seemed more collected than even the last time Elizabeth had talked with him. But the stability was fleeting.

"Elizabeth?" he asked. At first, it was as if he wasn't sure of her existence, that it was really her, or that she was really there. Then as the certainty of her presence asserted itself in his consciousness, he became resolute in his demeanor. "You shouldn't be here. Leave."

He backed away from her, realizing the danger inherent in being so close to her. Her scent was so strong it was intensifying his already migraine-status headache. The light in the room dimly lit her features, but he could feel the curves of her body pulling at him. The rhythmic thumping of her heartbeat pounded in his ears. He covered them, all the while backing away from her, hoping the distance between them would provide him some relief from the unwanted demands of his mind and body.

Alarmed, she rushed towards him, but he managed to gather himself enough to respond, shooting out a hand in a gesture to halt her advance. She obeyed, stopping in her tracks, several feet from his abnormally disheveled figure. It was frightening to seem him like this. She needed to give him his options, make sure he chose one, before it was too late…

"I spoke with Carson," she said trying to make it sound matter-of-fact, like it was a conversation like any other. It was the only way she was going to get through it. "He doesn't think there'll be a cure in time…" _To save your life._ "But he's still working on it." She followed his form as he levered himself to the floor, and leaned against the bed, panting heavily. _Just how hard did he have to fight this disease to stay in control?_

"So, basically," John began but paused to take a struggled breath. "You came to…tell me that I'm going…going to die from raging hormones." He met her eyes, a sincere but strained smile trying to find its way to his sweat-drenched face. After swallowing hard, a physical means to reinforce his psychological battle, he finished the joke. "I thought that only teenagers…suffered from that...particular affliction."

Elizabeth tried to smile, but her heart wasn't in it, even though she found the fact that he was still trying to crack jokes, shrug off the seriousness of the situation, a welcome sign that he was still John Sheppard. But that was also the problem; he was still trying to avoid the severity of his predicament. But maybe she could play to it, for his sake, just for a moment.

"_You_ always seem to behave like a teenage boy," She teased him. It didn't quite elicit the response she had hoped. He looked distant, his focus elsewhere, probably on preserving what little composure and self-control he had left. When, he finally spoke, she knew that this was the case.

"Thanks for the message… Elizabeth," he said disjointedly. Every effort was a struggle for John, every moment threatening to be the one in which he cracked. And Elizabeth was the only one close-by, too close, close enough to touch, to take… "But you need to go now."

"And what'll happen to you?" she asked rhetorically, but he gave her an answer anyway.

"I'll be fine."

"You're dying, John!" she shouted, infuriated by his complete avoidance of the truth. She let herself calm down a little before continuing her spiel, the one she came to deliver. "You have a choice. You can go back to Teluria and find some woman there." She took a deep breath. "Or you can stay here and get the help you need."

"Just Go!" Her presence was a burden beyond any he had ever felt before. Never had he had to struggle so hard to protect her before. And the worst part was that is was against himself. Her concern and compassion only served to anger him for some reason. _Why couldn't she just leave him alone to his misery and anguish? _And the more anger he felt, the more difficult it was to calm his burning body. "Leave me alone!"

He edged even further away from her and gripped the side of his pants. Pulling at the material was a desperate attempt to stabilize himself, his mind. His head was pounding, and he could barely manage a single clear thought with all of his concentration. It was like being insanely drunk, only with pain added to the buzz and impaired judgment. And he wished for the inevitable blackout that being this wasted would normally conjure, its sweet release from the tortures of the conscious mind, the ability to forget about all the trouble he had caused.

It was obvious to her now, as she observed him withdraw from her and reality; he was too far gone. He wasn't going to Teluria, he wasn't going anywhere. He wouldn't make it to the stargate, let alone a few steps out the door. And even if he could, how could she let the others see him like this? John was a proud man, and he had done so much for them all…she had to protect him and keep him safe.

Elizabeth set her jaw. She had to do this. And she had to be forward, confident in her decision or he would just try to push her away, not let her close. And then he would die, because he was too damn stubborn. Well, she could be stubborn to…

She strode confidently over to where the stricken man was sitting on the floor, his back still to the bed, barely holding himself together. His head turned away as if he couldn't bear the sight of her. _No time for doubts. Do this!_ Elizabeth quickly slipped into his lap, her knees straddling his waist. She placed a hand on his cheek and forced him to face her.

"I want to do this for you, Jo-" She didn't even manage to get the sentence out before he had wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to him, finding her lips with his own ravenous ones.

It had been too much. Her proximity, the contact between them, her hand on his cheek, the soft, cool skin soothing his burning flesh, it had broken the damn he had been desperately trying to hold up. The flood of urges and desires John had been restraining for what felt an eternity washed over him and swept Elizabeth away as well.

He had her on her back upon his bed, mostly naked, hovering over her, stripped of his own shirt, before he finally hesitated. The blinding pain of his migraine had finally subsided and a few clear thoughts were breaking through.

"We can't do this," he said, the rational John attempting to surface against his hormone-drenched brain, which was also beginning to receive its addicting, liberating dosage of endorphins. It was rewarding his submission to its demands for physical pleasure, his caresses of her soft exposed flesh, the expressive sighs he stirred from her lips, the intimate contact between their bodies. But it was just a chemical-physical reaction. The fact was he was endangering her. "I can't do this to you."

"John, it's too late to have doubts," Elizabeth said, sympathetic to his concerns, glad to know the man was still somewhere within the instinct-driven creature he had become, although this voracious side of him was also admittedly pleasing albeit in a disturbing way. "You've kissed me. I've been exposed to the virus, too. I need this as much as you do, now."

And with that, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down to meet her lips, wrapping her legs around him, claiming him as her own. And his last bit of resolve, his final hesitancies and doubts eroded away. The passions that he had fought against so adamantly became his purpose, his center in a world that consisted only of Elizabeth's willing body.

-------------------------------------------------------

"Do you really think that they're...umm…" said the taller, bulkier guard outside of the colonel's room. It was starting to bug him, and he found it difficult to start a conversation consisting of small talk in an attempt to ignore it entirely.

"That they're having sex?" the other guard finished for his comrade, completely unabashed by the subject matter. His sizeable piece of gum visibly rolled across his tongue as he spoke.

"Uh…yeah." Maybe he shouldn't have started this conversation. It really wasn't appropriate, or any of their business for that matter…

"You have ears, don't ya?" the deceivingly smaller man asked. He was the type that had intense amounts of energy per square inch of flesh. And currently, he had no outlet for that energy besides speculation and the conversation his counterpart had just initiated.

"Yeah…But maybe they're just...um…uh…" How was he going to end this before it got far more uncomfortable?

"Doing what? Dubbing a Porno?!" the second guard laughed. This was all very amusing. Besides, if he wanted to collect on some of those bets, he'd need the other man's confirmation. No one was going to believe him without backup.

"Do you have to be so disrespectful?" the first guard snapped, turning to face his partner, upset at the insolence, wondering if nothing was taboo to this man.

"I'm not! Good for them, I say!" The smile on his face informed his comrade that he generally approved of the situation. "If you ask me, Weir is always so tightly wound. She could use a release. And really, when was the last time the colonel got any? When was the last time any of us had the chance to-"

"Okay, I get your point!" the taller man interrupted, unwilling to continue the conversation. The look on his counterpart's face informed him that the soldier had no intention of ending the conversation there. He released a sigh as heavy as his mass. It echoed down the hall, illustrating his next point. "We shouldn't be talking about this here, now…"

"Okay, okay," the second guard conceded. "But you're gonna back me up on this later, right? You're not going to pretend you don't know what happened here?"

The reluctant witness rolled his eyes.

"Right?" the interrogator continued to badger his victim.

"Okay. I will."

"Will what?"

"I _will_ say whatever you want."

"No!" the man waiting to collect on some bets scolded his only hope at seeing a dime of his winnings. "You'll tell the truth, because you know exactly what's going on in there."

"Yes, okay. Can we move on now?"

The shorter man leaned in and reached up to clap his comrade on the back, giving him a satisfied smile.

The first guard sighed and checked his watch. _How much time was left until this shift was over?_

--------------------------------------------------------------

John whispered her name as he fell asleep, his energy spent, finally released from the intense drive resultant from the virus. Elizabeth fought back the tears. She had never felt this way before. No one had ever made her feel this way before. Never had she been so happy, so close to pure joy. It had been ecstasy like she had never previously experienced, more overwhelming than her first crush, more stimulating than her first kiss, more emotionally devastating than her first love. She had always thought she had a real connection with Simon, if no one prior, but had she been wrong! John made her feel like she would never be satisfied again. He had filled an emotional void she had never known was there.

He probably made every woman feel that way. But it didn't matter. It was time for her to go. If she was at all wise, Elizabeth would leave that very moment, before her heart broke. She had thought that she had considered every possible outcome before making her decision, but she had never thought of this. She had considered how it might make things awkward between them. She had even considered that she may not like being with him. Unfortunately, it had turned out the opposite, and she was finding it extremely difficult to forget that it had ever happened, detach herself and move on, as she knew she would have to.

Maybe, she could allow herself this single moment, one in which John Sheppard was hers, and hers alone. No one needed them for once, making demands on their time and their lives. He was asleep, and if she left before he woke, he would never be wise to what had really happened to her while she had resided in his arms. If he did not know she had lingered, he would not realize her nascent and intense attachment to him. And he never would. _She could never let it show._

But she wanted, needed this moment so badly. It made her feel really alive again. She was a complete person, one with her own thoughts and emotions, no longer defined only by her responsibility for others. And she wanted to forget, just for a little longer, that she had no right to her own life, not while people depended upon her. And so she momentarily and purposely forgot, snuggling into the sleeping form of her once lover, once and never again…

**A/N: Elizabeth came to John's rescue…but is the situation really resolved?**

**(Never fear…I shall be wrapping this story up in one or two more chapters: See my profile for more info.)**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate Atlantis or its characters…**

**Author's note: So sorry I missed my weekly update deadline! I've disappointed myself as much as anyone who actually looks forward to reading this (do you exist?). Anyway…I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter, or how y'all will either…but it needed to be done (boring Beckett explanations and all-sorry). Enjoy?**

Elizabeth Weir awoke in the bed of her military commander. And she was happy to be snuggled in close to him. But the notion was brief, soon replaced by the self-conscious guilt over what she had done, and the knowledge that it was over. However, she dared to steal just a minute more…for that is what she had done, stolen a moment that by no right had belonged to her. The prudent thing would've been to leave John Sheppard's side immediately after, not fool herself into believing that he was hers, or that entertaining the notion for a few hours wouldn't cause any harm.

But she hadn't left. She had stayed. And she still found herself caught up in the intimacy of witnessing such an exposed and vulnerable John Sheppard. He was still sound-asleep and she found her hand unintentionally drawn to the placid features of his face. She traced a finger along his nose, to his forehead, feeling like a child familiarizing itself with the world through touch, unhindered by the rules of social conduct. She allowed her other fingers to accompany the first as she continued her exploration of his face, over his forehead, down his cheek to his stubble-covered jaw. The few days' growth had been surprisingly soft against her skin, not coarse and unpleasant as she had expected. It had gently tickled her as he paid her body special attention.

His skin was warm to the touch, but it no longer burned in an attempt to fight off infection, as it had before. And he failed to stir from his position in the least. He remained as when he had fallen asleep, lying on his stomach, facing Elizabeth, with one arm wrapped around her middle, his hand pressed loosely against her back. And how could she blame him for the heavy slumber? When was the last time he had really slept? It probably had been days.

Again, she found herself smiling. Never had she seen John in such a serene and peaceful state. And it was irresistible. She wanted to be a part of it. So she edged even closer to him, until her body was pressed intimately to his naked side, and she nuzzled into his neck, immersing herself in him.

"Mmm…" she moaned softly, reacting to the contentment she felt encompassing her. His bare flesh, warm and soft teased a kiss from her lips. She followed it with more, placing them down his neck all the way to his shoulder.

Then Elizabeth heard it, the reason she had awoken in the first place, voices outside of John's room. There had been the two guards', but there was a third voice, which was gradually getting louder and more agitated, intensifying the accent to the point of being unmistakable.

_Beckett!_

Elizabeth snapped completely out of her indulgently happy mood. No longer was she John's lover. She was Dr. Weir, the leader of the Atlantis expedition. With a sigh, she maneuvered her way out of his pleasantly comforting grasp without rousing him from sleep. When she had extricated herself from his bed, she hastily searched out her clothing and dressed. Carson's voice was becoming more and more blatantly irate with every passing moment. The guards had orders not to let anyone in to see John without her permission, and they were adamantly adhering to the command.

Having all but her feet covered again, she made her way to the door. She took a deep breath. Composure was key, composure and confidence. She had made a calculated decision, and there was nothing wrong with that. No one could convince her otherwise. It had been her choice and she had made it!

She opened the door.

"Thank you gentlemen," she addressed the guards in one of her most formal voices. "I'll handle this from here." She turned to Dr. Beckett, who was currently wearing a shocked face, with his mouth slightly ajar. "Dr. Beckett?"

The doctor collected himself and accepted Elizabeth's invitation to enter the colonel's room. After entering the dimly lit space a few paces, he paused, furrowing his brow in an attempt to ascertain the scene around him as well as what, precisely, it meant. The only light in the room was that pouring in through the large Lantean windows. It spread from its source, reaching across the floor, lighting the sleeping figure in the small bed on the other side of the room. He didn't seem to be moving, or living for that matter. But Elizabeth seemed entirely unconcerned as she walked past Beckett, the door closing behind her…So he must be fine.

Carson found himself staring as she traversed the room, periodically bending down to pick something up off from the floor. Recognizing the items she was gathering as socks and shoes, he realized that she was currently barefoot. This led him to scrutinize her appearance further. Her clothing was rumpled, and she looked rather more significantly unkempt than usual, her hair in messy intertwining curls. Given her current appearance, and the way she perched upon the edge of the colonel's bed to put on her footwear, without any concern or unease over the proximity to the sleeping man, who was probably naked under the blanket gathered around his waist…Beckett could draw only one conclusion. And it concerned him a great deal.

"Tell me you didn't sleep with him, Elizabeth," he said, breaking the silence. She didn't look up from the shoe she was currently lacing.

"And why would I do that, when you obviously are already certain you know the truth?" she asked vindictively, still without looking at him.

"That wasn't a wise decision, lass," he informed her, more calm than she was over the confrontation. Having finished her task, she stood up and moved to stand face to face with him. She stared him down horribly and he felt himself shrink under her intense glare.

"What was I supposed to do?" she hissed quietly, still wary of the man fast asleep in the room. "Let him die? Would that have been a _wise decision_!?"

He stepped back, throwing his hands passively into the air, showing that he was backing down. The last thing Carson wanted was an argument over things that couldn't be undone, especially with Elizabeth. He was sure that she had considered the action her only possible avenue. Otherwise she wouldn't have done it. However, she seemed very defensive over the issue…

"Why don't you and John come to the infirmary with me," he suggested, hoping to route her away from her defensive, argumentative state. Given what he wanted to tell her, he didn't want her to already be in a not-so-happy mood.

The previously self-protective woman took a step back and ran a hand over her face, composing herself. "Okay, I'll go with you. But let John sleep a little longer. He needs the rest."

Carson nodded his head. He wanted to talk with Elizabeth in private anyway…

-------------------------------------------------------

Elizabeth remained pensively in the corner of the infirmary where Carson had seated her. Something wasn't right; she could tell. He had drawn blood, talked to her about her decision, given her an emergency contraceptive, and assured her that she had done the right thing despite giving her a solemn look the entire time. Then he had gone off to examine her blood sample. She already knew the result, that she had been infected with the virus…so why was she so nervous? No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't shake the feeling that there was something else, something Carson wasn't telling her, something that _even _he was apprehensive about. She wrung her hands and stared off into space.

"Elizabeth?"

She jumped, her attention pulled back to reality.

"Oh-sorry, Carson," she apologized. "I was just…thinking."

He took the chair beside hers, still looking solemn. "Your blood sample shows a small, but significant viral load."

"I knew that was a possibility," she told him flatly. "But the virus should be dormant in my body as well now, shouldn't it?"

"Yes, it is," Beckett confirmed. _If it was true why was he still wearing a look like he was addressing a terminal patient?_

"Except…" Elizabeth began for him, urging the doctor to get on with it. _Didn't he realize the stalling was far more upsetting than whatever bad news he had to give her?_

"Except the disease is far more complicated than I had explained to you," he confessed. And that was it, the reason for his solemnity, for his hesitation. "I should have told you, made sure you understood." He began to more scold himself than address her. "If I had, you never would have…"

Looking up, witnessing the stress on Elizabeth's face, the doctor recognized his indulgent delve into self-blame. He snapped out of his meandering guilt-trip.

"The virus is hormonal-based," he began the long tedious explanation that would ultimately lead to the alarming conclusion he really had hoped to spare her from. "And the biochemistry of men and women is very different. So the virus has a different pathology depending upon the gender of the host…"

Elizabeth's eyes were slightly bugging out, so he decided to simplify…although that is what caused her to be in this situation to begin with.

"For example," Beckett tried again. "Say a man has sex with a woman who is infected with the virus and suffering the Fawning. He becomes infected as well, but the virus is rendered dormant in both of them. The virus may remain dormant in the man indefinitely, unless his body is exposed to the active virus again. For the woman, however, the virus will only remain dormant until her body reaches a certain hormonal level again. And as you know, a woman's biochemistry is naturally cyclical."

"Wait a minute," Elizabeth interrupted. She did not like where this was headed. "Are you saying that I'm going to suffer this 'Fawning' like John did anyway?"

"Yes. I'm sorry, Elizabeth," Beckett stated the truth as empathetically as possible. "From what I've learned, the disease's life cycle is linked to the female reproductive cycle, specifically being triggered by the hormones released during ovulation."

Her mind ran around in circles at the revelation that she would suffer as John had. But surprisingly, the panic was short-lived. When she had chosen to relieve John's suffering, she had known that she was putting herself at risk of many things, even numerous unforeseen complications. And she knew that if she had the option of doing it over, taking it back, she would still make the same decision.

"That gives you another three weeks to find a cure, then, doctor," Elizabeth said calmly, trying to remember exactly when in a women's cycle ovulation occurred.

Beckett was shocked at her lack of alarm. Of course, they wouldn't make someone given to hysterics the leader of an expedition to an alien galaxy. And Elizabeth always had proven herself especially capable of remaining calm and keeping her head in intense, often potentially-fatal situations. He shook her reaction, or lack there of, off.

"Given the complexity of this disease, it may not be as much a cure as a treatment," Beckett warned. She still seemed relatively unalarmed.

"Is that all?" She asked after a moment of silence stretched between them, in which they both considered her reaction to the news that she was not only infected with an alien disease, but it was inevitably going to cause her pain. Then she stood, ready to leave, to digest the information elsewhere, to checkup on the beloved plague of her existence.

"Don't forget to send Colonel Sheppard here," Beckett told her, also rising to his feet. She gave him a dirty look. He returned it with one that said 'like you'd be going anywhere else.' "I need to check him out before giving him a clean bill of health."

A thought occurred to Elizabeth. "Uh, Dr. Beckett, about the medical report for this whole incident-"

"Don't worry about it," he replied before she could finish her thought. He gave her a wink. "I'll make sure there's nothing too…_scandalous_ in it."

"Won't they notice any discrepancies?" Elizabeth asked, now concerned on a level she had considered before. The fact they would have to answer to the higher-ups over such a personal decision hadn't crossed her mind before.

"Nah," the doctor placated her. "The people who read my reports haven't the foggiest to what I'm talking about most of the time. They just give them a quick once-over, probably ignore the details entirely."

She knitted her brow, giving him a doubt-filled, scrutinizing glare. Then she shrugged and left the infirmary, wondering only slightly about how she didn't seem to care anymore. _To hell with those who would criticize her, to hell with it all!_ Maybe she wasn't concerned for her health, over the potential suffering and possible death the viral infection meant, because there were dozens, hundreds of ways she could die before the 'Fawning' overtook her. They were under constant threat of Wraith attack, Genii plots, or scientists inadvertently causing explosions whilst playing with technology far beyond their understanding.

So despite harboring an alien infection that was a ticking time bomb, Elizabeth only felt concern over one thing, the man she had gone through all of this for…

--------------------------------------------------------------------

The tray of food came to rest upon the desktop with a loud clatter. The noise however failed to rouse the only other occupant of the room besides the bearer of the sustenance. Elizabeth rolled her eyes although a smile lit her face as she discovered John to be sleeping still in the position she had left him, like nothing more than dead weight. She didn't debate whether or not to wake the peacefully slumbering man. The question was 'should she be gentle or harsh in tearing him from his rest?'

She decided to compromise, placing a firm yet tender hand upon his shoulder. That's how she would have gone about it, had nothing changed between them.

"John?" She shook his shoulder gently. "John."

A moan escaped his lips as he shifted, stretching his muscles. Greeting the day with such a heavy feeling was only reserved for hangovers and mornings following very painful days, usually involving Wraith or other Pegasus-galaxy paraphernalia. _What the hell had happened this time?_

_Oh, yeah…right._

Alien virus, uncontrollable urges, anguished demise, _strike that_, Elizabeth…_oh…Elizabeth!_ What had she done? Or what had he done to her…What had _they_ done?

John couldn't delude himself for long. He remembered it in its entirety. And he'd probably never forget his sexual encounter with Elizabeth Weir. But it had been a mistake, a bad choice on her part. She may have gotten herself into the same bizarre mess he had been in-he realized it was her who had wakened him and briefly scrutinized her appearance-except she looked perfectly fine.

"Good morning-Well, afternoon," Elizabeth greeted, pulling her emotions slightly so that she didn't appear overly happy to see him.

John's mind was not focused on such pleasantries. How did one thank someone for doing what Elizabeth had done? It was a situation he was far from familiar with. People that had sex didn't usually feel the need to express their gratitude toward each other. Generally, both desired the encounter, but this was different. Elizabeth had made a sacrifice, risked her health and potentially her life to save him. And that was it. He needed to thank her for saving his life.

He shifted into a sitting position to face her, but found it difficult to meet her eyes.

"Elizabeth, I-" John began the attempt to express his gratitude to the woman who had kept him from going completely mad, probably even from dying. She didn't allow him to get very far.

"No, John," she interrupted, catching and holding his gaze. "You don't have to do that."

John considered her for a moment, furrowing his brow and pressing his lips together. _So that was how it was going to be?_ It had never happened. They would never talk about it. He didn't know where she liked to be kissed (on her neck, a little towards the backside and her stomach, just to the right of center and an inch or so below her left breast). He didn't know where she had a cluster of three cute little freckles that matched the ones that would sometimes appear on her cheeks (they were on the inside of her hip, another place she liked to be kissed). And he didn't know what it felt like to have her smooth, soft flesh pressed intimately to his body (amazing!). She had never cried out his name in pleasure or looked upon him with such affection and joy in her eyes.

"I thought you might be hungry," Elizabeth said, indicating the tray of food she had set upon his desk.

"Thanks," he responded, unsure of what to make of this semi-friendly, mostly business side of Dr. Weir. He supposed that was what she was at the moment, _Dr. Weir_. She was not the woman he had sex with…_last night? _Had it been last night? Well, yesterday, sometime…At least John thought it must've been yesterday. He couldn't have been asleep for more than a day at most, _right_?

"As soon as Carson clears you," she began, in the coldest manner she had ever treated him. "And you feel up to it, I'm placing you back on active duty."

"Yes, ma'am." It seemed like the appropriate response to her detached attitude. He caught a shocked, somewhat offended reaction, although she quickly recovered her frigid composure.

"I've already dismissed the guards," she informed him. "They shouldn't be needed anymore…" She raised her eyebrows and the corner of her mouth twitched, but the humor in her expression seemed forced. "As long as you can assure me that you're not going to cause any more problems…at least here in Atlantis. You can make all the trouble you want for the Wraith."

He felt bad, but John was too perplexed and disturbed by her guarded behavior to respond to her insincere teasing. "No ma'am. I won't."

She seemed saddened by his return of her own removed demeanor, but again the tell was elusive and short-lived. Not knowing what he could do or say to make it better, make it like normal, John could only watch her nod her head and leave his room.

It must be a safety mechanism…but for what reason and to what end? Why would cutting herself off from him benefit her? More importantly, what could he do about it? She had given him so much. He couldn't ask more, confront her or cause her pain. If she wanted to play the 'it never happened' game, then who was he not to honor her choice? It had been a choice of hers that saved him, after all…

**A/N: Almost done…**

**Here's a random question, but it has been bugging me for awhile. Is the short version 'Lantian' or 'Lantean'? Instinct would cause me to write it 'Lantian' but when I watch the show with captions, it's spelled 'Lantean.' Thoughts?**


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate Atlantis or its characters…**

**Author' note: So sorry for the tardiness. I could use the excuse that since it was the last bit of the story, I wanted to make sure it was just right, but that would be a lie. The truth is that I've been severely busy, and when I had time, I was tremendously lazy. That being said, I hope the ending isn't too disappointingly crappily written…**

Elizabeth sat back and took a moment to clear her head. She knew what was bothering her, but that didn't mean she wanted to admit it. The last few weeks had seen things basically return to normal, except for her relationship with John. It seemed the same on the surface, but it was forced, and far from as open as it had been. And there was not much she could do to correct it. She could only hope that with time, it would work itself out.

However a bother dealing with John had become, it was not her most pressing problem. That morning, Major Lorne's team had returned from their survey of P4T-391, and she was confronted with the revelation that three weeks had indeed passed since the Fawning had debilitated John and she had become infected as well. She had been feeling strange for a day or so, but it was especially noticeable when she had greeted the team. Quickly, she had realized her senses were slightly sharper than usual. The strong unwashed smell of the men, a mixture of tropical vegetation, fertile dirt and overripe fruit, and perspiration had overwhelmed her. It was all she could do not to cover her nose as a reflex.

Lorne, she had found particularly appealing, looking as disheveled as the rest of the team from the 18 hour survey-mission, but in a more organized, suave way. Elizabeth had been distracted by his solid form, broad shoulders, and strong jaw line as she complemented the team of soldiers and scientists on a job well done. It had been difficult, but she had managed to tear herself away from his teasingly bright eyes, filled with the lively personality of their owner.

She had been basically hiding out in her office, hoping that if she wasn't constantly confronted with the problem, she could ignore it. But people had kept coming and going as per usual, forcing her to deal with any attraction she might feel for them as they informed her of problems, successes and complaints. Then_ he_ had shown up, giving her a pre-mission-briefing briefing, leaning against her desk and strutting around her office like nothing had changed between them, like things hadn't grown awkward, like she hadn't deliberately attempted to distance herself when he was concerned.

It was a good thing that she was already quite familiar with the situation on PX3-657, otherwise the mission briefing she had to attend later would prove rather difficult. Because, while John Sheppard had been in her office, she had not been listening to a word he was saying. Maybe the reason she had found herself so much more affected by his presence than the others was that they had already slept together. She had a memory to drive her fantasies and her desires. And she _had_ fantasized about him as he stood before her entirely oblivious to the fact that she was considering jumping him, calculating how long it would take her to tear all of his clothes off, imagining how incredible it would feel to have him inside her again.

But somehow, Elizabeth had managed not to act upon her desires, restraining herself with what she hoped was at least some composure until John had finished his spiel and left.

There was just no denying that The Fawning was upon her. She would have to go to Beckett. Hopefully, he would have found a treatment for her…before she did something regrettable.

---------------------------------------------------------------

John Sheppard walked slowly down the empty Lantean halls. He had sought out one of the explored but unused sections of the city in order to have some privacy with his thoughts. Elizabeth had been acting strange that day. Well, admittedly she had been acting oddly towards him ever since…

But that wasn't the current issue, the one that was consuming his thoughts. Elizabeth had been infected by the virus because of him. And now she was beginning to suffer The Fawning because of him. He winced at the memory of Dr. Beckett haranguing him for having sex with Elizabeth. Eventually, the doctor had realized it wasn't his fault, but not before he had let it slip that her infection by the virus would be far more severe and complicated than his.

There was no doubt in his mind that it was the cause of her subtly bizarre behavior that day. She had been surprisingly distracted both times he had tried to talk with her earlier. He knew that she always had a lot of things on her mind, but this was different. It was the first time in a while that she had actually looked at him for more than a split-second at a time. In fact, he was pretty sure she had been staring in an absent-minded sort of way.

If his suspicions were true, and what he saw in her eyes (that she wanted him) was true, then he had a decision to make. He could go to her now, before it got bad, before her affliction became apparent to others. He could protect her. Or he could wait it out, see what happened. But he didn't like the idea of Elizabeth's weaknesses being exposed to everyone, even though they were people who cared about her.

And he couldn't lie to himself. Part of him wanted to be with her again, to enjoy her as a woman, to see her that happy and lighthearted once more. And perhaps, he could get her to tell him what was going on, what he had done to make her so cold to him.

Yes, he would confront Elizabeth, offer to help her end the viral attack, and hopefully get some answers…

------------------------------------------------------------------------

John lay beside her, struggling to find his way back to reality. It had been as intense and overwhelming as before, even though he was in full control of his desires this time and his body had only been raging with the normal amount of hormones. He let his eyes wander over Elizabeth as she slowed her heavy breathing back to normal, her bare chest noticeably rising and falling. All he wanted to do was take her in his arms again.

"We shouldn't have done this…" Elizabeth said staring fixedly at the ceiling. Her words were cold and they pierced his chest as if she had stabbed him with a jagged icicle. "You should leave."

He could only watch as she turned her back on him to lie upon her side. It was the most frustrating puzzle he had ever encountered. How could she behave like this? She couldn't really feel like that…no one could handle that kind of emotional instability. She had been warm, joyous even, while they were in the throws of passion. And now she had completely shut down on him, resuming the distant, removed attitude she had been showing him over the past few weeks.

John reached out a hand towards her naked shoulder, wanting so badly to be able to comfort her. Something was obviously wrong. Elizabeth had never demonstrated such a tendency for erratic behavior. But he hesitated before his hand made contact with the smooth flesh, before he instinctually pulled her into a warm embrace, something she apparently did not want from him. Instead, he removed himself from her bed and found his pants. It was her bed, her room, her life. If she didn't want him in it, then he had no right being there.

But still…

Something was wrong. And John couldn't stand seeing her like this.

"Elizabeth," he said her name gently, hoping it was loud enough to garner her attention, but not too loud as to lose all delicacy he intended in it. "Please tell me what's going on."

There was no movement to signify any form of response to his request. So, John walked around the bed, approaching the troubled woman, needing to see her face, to ascertain what her real thoughts and feelings were. She must've heard his approach, known his intent, because she slunk from the edge of the bed to sit upon the floor with the blankets gathered around her, denying him that which he sought.

"C'mon! Talk to me!" he snapped, overwhelmed by frustration.

She looked at him. She looked at him and part of him died. He didn't know why there were tears running silently down her cheeks. He only knew that it was his fault. _What had he done?_ But it was too late for guilt or remorse. She was already snapping back at him.

"You shouldn't have done this, John," Elizabeth began chewing him out, responding to his own angered cry of frustration. "You had no right to make this decision!"

"What?!" Maybe she was right, that she hadn't been in possession of her own faculties enough to turn him down if she had wanted to. But she was _also_ absolutely wrong. "It's not okay for me to make the decision to help you, to prevent your suffering The Fawning, but you could make the exact same decision to have sex with me?"

"It's not the same thing at all, and you know it!" Her eyes were blazing and although she still was on the floor she had risen up onto her knees in the heat of the argument. _God, she could be intimidating!_ Even though he was standing, towering over her, certain that he was in the right and she was being hypocritical, she had the upper hand. And although he couldn't really entertain the notion at the moment, John was realizing just how incredibly hot she was when she was pissed, her muscles all tensed and her face flushed like when he had her mid-coitus. "When I made the decision to sleep with you, there were no other options. You were going to die. I knew the consequences and fully accepted them. It was a one-time deal, a single occurrence, a solution to an impossible problem."

He opened his mouth to respond, to argue with her that his motives had been basically the same, but she allowed him no such chance.

"But when _you_ came to me, you changed everything!" She wasn't going to let up until he understood what he had done. "Before, it had been an aberration, excusable as a mistake. Now, _now_ it's a pattern, a liability. Before, maybe we could've pretended it never happened, kept it secret. But now…_They will find out_."

And there it was. They. Them. And it possibly made him even angrier. How could people living billions of miles away have such control over their lives? It just wasn't fair. More than that, it wasn't moral. No person should have a say in the personal affairs of another, especially something as intimate as who they chose to have sex with. But Elizabeth was right, if the SGC, Pentagon or whatever fascist power-that-be found out, they would be in serious trouble, court-marshal, confined-to-a-small-mundane-corner-of-earth-for-the-rest-of-their-lives trouble.

He shook his head expressively. She may have been right, but he couldn't help but feel there was more to the situation. It seemed like she trying to keep him on edge, wound-up for a reason. He decided to thwart what was probably the hundredth diversion tactic she had used on him in the past few weeks. His curiosity as to the cause of her recent behavior had finally developed into desperation for the truth.

"Know what I've always liked about you, Elizabeth?" he asked her gently as he sat down beside her. It was a blatant change of subject matter, but he hoped that it caught her off-guard enough to elicit a response, to allow him to guide her to the revelation he desired. It worked.

"No. I don't know, John." she responded, slightly exasperated but also amazed at his ability to turn off his aggressiveness and anger as if he hadn't been emotionally, passionately engaged in the argument.

"Since the first moment I met you, I could see it," he began, like he was telling a story. Except this story was the absolute truth, what he felt deep down inside. "Your humanity, Elizabeth. Your seemingly unending capacity for compassion and kindness. No matter what the situation, you've never lost it. And I've always admired that in you, even when I was arguing against what I thought at the time was 'blindness' to reality. And I hated every time I had to tell you we lost another person, to see that part of you die a little. But it always came back. You've always managed to keep your heart from growing hard. And I thought that it was the one constant that I could forever rely upon, that would never change.

"But you've changed. And it's all my fault. What did making that decision do to you, Elizabeth? Why did having sex with me make you grow cold? _What did I do to you?_"

Elizabeth had been watching him intently as he poured his heart out to her, his concern for her, his distress that he had hurt her. She had always known there was more depth to the man than people gave him credit for, but she had never expected this. And she had never considered that he would also have to bear the consequences of her choice, that it would affect him in this way. Then again, she hadn't expected to be so wholly mixed up by it all either.

"It's not your fault," she consoled, wrapping her arms around him. He pulled her close into a warm embrace, something he had desired to do for what seemed like an eternity. "I was just afraid."

He released her enough so he could look in her eyes. His face changed, confusion lining his features. "Afraid of what?"

"That you'd find out," she whispered. He still looked confused.

_This was exasperating!_ "Please, just be straight with me."

"Okay," she nodded her head, assured that telling John was the right thing to do. "Being with you…I… You made me feel good." He smiled at that, his lopsided, most charming grin that melted her insides. "And I felt like maybe I was…falling in love with you."

She looked away, unable to face his reaction, whatever it may be. She felt silly for it. _All it had been was sex, right?_

_Oh, god._ This was serious. Could Elizabeth really feel that way about him? _It had only been sex, hadn't it? _Sure, there had been a connection between them. They were friends, and there was practically nothing he wouldn't do for her, to keep her safe. And despite a few rough spots, they got along rather well, except for the past few weeks. But he had sought her out, knowing The Fawning was upon her. There had to be a reason for it. He could've just let it go, seen how things had played out, only help her if it was really necessary. But he hadn't, because the truth was…

"I care about you a lot, Elizabeth. And being with you was amazing. But the way you've been treating me, the way you've grown cold, it hurt." Like Elizabeth couldn't face him, he couldn't face her, the one to whom he was saying things he'd never thought he'd say to anyone. "I guess that's why when I realized the virus had begun to affect you, I sought you out. I was hoping that I could coax the real you back out again. I was desperate just to make you smile again."

Elizabeth finally looked at John. He was being absolutely sincere and it was apparent in his deep, honest eyes. Wrapping her arms around him again, she pulled herself to him and whispered into his ear. "Thank you for being honest with me."

"Thank you for finally telling me the truth," he whispered back. Overwhelmed by the chemistry between them, and it wasn't just viral-induced, he kissed her cheek. She turned and he found her lips. And they both found it exceedingly pleasant.

"But it still doesn't change anything," she told him, pulling away slightly after they broke the kiss off. "We can't do this ever again."

She moved to get up but he caught her by the wrist. "Not so fast, Elizabeth."

Her heart-rate quickened at his assertiveness. Although they had had a sincere, open conversation, she still had resigned herself to living with her misery, knowing that she could never have him, not even just in a sexual relationship. She thought that she had made this fact clear to him, that he had accepted it as well. But when she looked into his eyes, she knew that he wasn't resigned to it as she was.

"They have no right to dictate what we can and can't do," he informed her of what she already knew, but couldn't act upon.

"It wouldn't be appropriate, no matter how we feel," she countered, although not liking the fact that she was fighting for a cause she abhorred, against the man she only wanted to be close to.

"You've already given up so much for them, for the expedition, _for me_," he said, not letting her go, knowing this was the only chance he'd have to convince her that her life, her personality was worth preserving. "You're a person, Elizabeth. Not just a leader. And you deserve to be a person."

The tears began to retrace their path down her cheeks. She knew he was right. And he knew he had gotten through to her. Collapsing into him, she allowed herself to be cradled in his arms. John wiped the moisture from her face, kissed her neck and shoulder. Something occurred to him and he paused.

"I don't mean to pressure you into anything with me," he explained, realizing that she had never really freely chosen to be with him. The first time, she had felt it necessary to save his life. The second time, she had been the one overcome by the virus, incapable of refusing a lover. "I just want you to realize that you can and deserve to have a life beyond the responsibility of keeping all of us from getting ourselves killed. But it doesn't have to be me. Although I'd like-"

Elizabeth silenced him with her lips, and they soon found themselves, by choice, in a sexual encounter as passionate as the previous two.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

"You didn't expose someone else to the virus?!" Dr. Beckett asked, alarmed and shocked by Elizabeth's assertion that she was fine despite having a positive blood test for the active virus only yesterday.

"No one who hasn't already contracted the virus has been exposed," she reassured him.

"You mean that you and the colonel…" he blurted out before his mind could censor itself, then realized it and let himself trail off. Well, that explained her good mood. But still, if she just had waited, he could've offered her the solutions that he had come up with, although they admittedly weren't that great either.

"Well, then. Let's check your blood and see what the virus is up to," Carson changed the subject. She offered him her arm and the wince was minimal as the needle penetrated her vein.

"I've come up with a few possibilities to manage the viral attacks," he offered her as he watched the test-tube fill with blood.

"Just 'manage'?" Elizabeth asked, also watching her blood flowing into the small glass vessel. The doctor placed a cotton swab over the spot where the needle was stuck into her arm. Then he pulled it out. She bent her arm as was customary, but wondered at the strange sensation of the needle sliding through her flesh. No matter how many times she underwent the procedure, it still creeped her out.

"Yes, I'm afraid so," Beckett conceded. "The disease's interaction with the human body is so complicated…I could spend the rest of my life studying it and still not figure out how to completely neutralize it."

"I see," she replied, her brow twitching slightly with concern. This had serious implications for her life, but she couldn't fully feel the gravity of it. She blamed John for the emotional high she apparently was on.

"But that doesn't mean there aren't treatments we can consider," Carson hastily supplied.

"To _manage_ it," Elizabeth finished for him. She had already figured out a way to manage it.

"For example, there are birth control medications that alter a woman's reproductive cycle, effectively drawing it out so that she only menstruates four times a year," he explained the best solution he had come up with. The tests he had run on the active virus taken from Elizabeth's blood the previous day had shown they were responsive to the synthetic hormones.

"So, I would still have attacks multiple times a year?" she surmised. "Why don't we just trick my system into extending it for even longer?"

"Well, there could be numerous side affects we couldn't even anticipate," he answered, taking her arm and putting a band-aid over the fresh wound. Elizabeth tended to be a bleeder. Not enough iron, and too busy too listen to her doctor's concerns. "When you alter body systems so much from their natural state…It's just not good."

"So, if I switch birth control, the number of attacks will be reduced," Elizabeth concluded.

"Yes. And I believe that with a little more study, I may be able to develop a treatment, a dosage of hormones sufficient to signal the virus back into dormancy during an attack of The Fawning."

"Thank you, doctor," Elizabeth said. "But I won't be too upset if you don't succeed."

Dr. Beckett gave her a confused look, but followed her own gaze over his shoulder, to where John Sheppard stood just a few feet away. Catching that their attention had turned towards him, John assumed the conversation was over.

"Are you done with her, doc?" he asked. "Because she promised me lunch and I'm starving."

When Beckett failed to respond, Elizabeth raised an eyebrow at John and he shrugged his shoulders lightheartedly. The doctor finally snapped back to reality, but not all of him arrived, for he was still shocked at what he saw passing before him. He obviously knew that they were sexually intimate, but he still found it odd to consider their relationship as it was revealed before him.

"Um, yes, go ahead," he finally managed to say. He could only stare in a manner which he knew was rude as Elizabeth hopped up and walked over to John, who proceeded to place an arm around her waist and escort her out of the infirmary. He imagined that they would receive a lot of such looks, but if they were happy…

And they were, quite happy.

THE END

**Author's Final Note: Thanks for sticking with me, and I hope that I at least provided you with some form of entertainment, however brief and unsatisfying…**


End file.
